Du Shur'tugal
by Agent Glitch
Summary: It's been fourteen years ever since Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira, Glaedr's Eldunarí and the elves ventured out of Alagaësia. Now the second human Rider, Virgil, and his dragon, Îstalrren, are on their way to Ellesméra. Virgil is haunted by dreams. A rose, a dragon chase, and the fury of a new Rider. This dark elf will one day rise with his enslaved dragon. What will Virgil do?
1. Chapter 1 : Argetlam?

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, places, and/or happenings. I only own Virgil, his dragon, and the dwarf, and Urgal Riders and their Dragons as characters. **

Virgil Roransson saw the green constellation of scales grow in both size and structure until the dragon Fírnen landed, followed by a great whoosh of air. The scales on the Skulblaka's head sparkled so bright, faint specks of light bounced off them, dancing from side to side like fire flies under the winter sun's cold gaze. Then the elf-woman Arya leaped off his back, quick like a deer. She then untied a small saddlebag and opened it, revealing a white dragon egg. It was oval, rather large in size, but it was difficult to judge its weight, for Arya showed no effort in carrying it, like any elf would. Then she took a small table and laid the egg on it. She did not touch the egg, but rather held it with the saddlebag cloth, like a smith holds cooling metal with tongs.

Virgil smiled at the majestic shape of the dragon, admiring him yet again. _It's time. _

At the age of thirteen, Virgil was smart, courageous, if not a bit foolish. He was of medium height, dark-haired, with brown eyes and a taste for adventure. He could read in the human alphabet and even knew a little about the Liduen Kvaedhí, though he could not fully memorize it. But he wasn't good at metalworking, or cooking. His older sister Ismira, on the other hand, mastered both, though she liked cooking better. She was only a year older than he was. They lived in Palancar Valley, in the village of Carvahall. Their father was the earl Roran, cousin of none other than Eragon Shadeslayer, Kingkiller, Dragon Rider. Ever since Queen Nasuada took the throne, life had become much more peaceful, to all six races, including dragons and werecats.

Virgil knew of Du Fyrn Skulblaka, rise of the Wrydfell, and even about King Galbatorix's death. He loved reading. He even received a copy of _Domia abr Wyrda _for his tenth birthday. He loved reading about Du Weldenvarden, Dagshelgr, Nïdwhalar, Fanghur, how Erisdar were made, and about what Vroengard used to be like. But he especially treasured the paragraphs about Eragon's rise, written by Jeod. Virgil also liked reading poems, reciting one every night before he slept. He even memorized the spell for making a fairth.

Now he promised to write a song about Fírnen. He already had a sentence in mind: _With scales like stars, with spikes like spears... _He stopped and focused on Arya, who cleared her throat and announced, "...and because this egg rejected hatching in Ceunon, it has been decided that we try to find a human Rider in Carvahall before we set out to search in Yazuac and Daret." Yazuac was now a well-populated village, ever since it was rebuilt. Now no one thought of how it had been pillaged by the Urgals.

Then she straightened herself up and commanded, "Form a line!" while Fírnen let out a jubilant roar. Everyone began to run and soon a wobbly row was settled. Then the elf queen supervised as, one by one, people touched the egg, hoping it would crack, shake, or let out a squeak to show that it would hatch. Roran and Katrina were also present, watching as the people attempted to rouse the baby dragon out of its shell. Virgil was close to the back of the line, so he waited while watching Fírnen and his surroundings.

The green dragon was huge. At the age of fourteen, he was as large as three, maybe four houses, even more. He had brilliant pale green eyes. His wings were also green, but his scales were a slightly darker shade. Some of the scales on his neck were long and shaped like fur. His spikes were slightly yellowish and reminded Virgil of rhinoceros horns.

Two fangs from his bottom lip were bared. They were like daggers. Above Fírnen's eyes were four smaller horns. He was different from other dragons, some had no horns on their eyes, such as Thorn, Murtagh's dragon. Glaedr only had one horn over each eye.

Then he looked over to Támerlein, Arya's sword. He felt a twinge of amusement at the similarity of the sword's current and former owners: Arya and Arva. He imagined what sword the dragon's future Rider would wield. The egg was bright white in color, making it hard to see the veins that webbed its surface. The blade would have to be white as well. Virgil imagined light bouncing off the weapon whenever its owner unsheathed it.

He then thought back to the time when Arya brought a message, saying that Riders would work in pairs together until the time came for them to leave Alagaësia. The first pair, a dwarf and an Urgal, left around a year ago. They were Shûrn and Ulreq. Their dragons were Láukan, a brown, and Threkkan, a red. The next pair would consist if a human and an elf. According to Arya, the egg the would be destined for an elf was a purple egg.

Ismira was lucky enough to get her turn quickly. Each person was given a certain time to spend with the egg. Virgil saw Roran staring at the egg with intense eyes. It was near midday when Arya arrived; now at least three hours passed by. He watched until the egg gave no sign that it would hatch for Ismira. Dissatisfied and disdainful, she walked over to her father. He looked worried, but then his dismay vanished as he accepted the fact that she would not be the egg's Rider. The process went on for several hours.

The line of waiting people shortened as more and more people left the row. Some went home, subdued or angered by the fact that they could not become the next Rider. Others looked relieved because they didn't want to leave Carvahall, swept away by a tide of fate and destiny. Most, though, stood nearby, eager to be the first to bring news of the newest Rider.

At last it was Virgil's turn. He gave the egg a tentative touch. Nothing. He placed his right hand on it. Still nothing. He held it over his head, as if he were showing a baby to the world for the first time. Fírnen watched from nearby. A puff of smoke floated from his nose. It drifted higher and higher until it faded from sight.

Virgil felt the egg shake. He put it down. It rocked from side to side. Then a shrill noise filled the air, muffled by the eggshell. He held the egg in his lap, gently whispering to the dragon within the egg. He stroked its smooth surface, tracing a faint line with his finger. If the egg didn't move, his turn would have been over, but now Arya watched him intently. For ten minutes, no one moved or spoke, all eyes on Virgil. From somewhere above a songbird chirped. Then the surface of the egg cracked. The crack was long and jagged like a lightning bolt. Here and there smaller cracks appeared, all of them sprouting from the longest crack. A fingernail-sized piece of the egg came off. Virgil picked it up and gazed at it. Then his attention turned to the egg again. He felt _alive_, with exhilaration, happiness, disbelief, hope, wonder and, buried somewhere, an expression of fear and uncertainty. Then he watched as the egg flipped over by itself. Then another squeak broke the silence that had lasted for seven minutes. Then he saw a larger section of the eggshell rise, as if it was being pushed from underneath it.

The piece toppled over and fell to the ground. Virgil peeked into the hole it left. He saw a blur of scales. Then the dragon inside the egg stirred, and he saw a spike, then a snout, and even a thin membrane that he took for a wing. The dragon wriggled, as if he were attempting to escape from a cave-hole that was slightly smaller then itself, and that the surface would never break. Of course, the egg was more fragile than that. The dragon squeaked in pain, as if he has been poked by something. Then a sigh came from within, and the dragon heaved off a triangular fragment. Then a small foreleg came out, only to be pulled back in. Then the egg shifted, and a familiarly shaped head revealed itself. It was similar to Fírnen's head, but instead of grassy scales, Virgil saw bone-white ones.

No one moved.

Its neck emerged next, and a line of spikes appeared. They were ivory in color, and were identical to the claws Virgil saw on its paw. Then the dragon's shoulders appeared, followed by its body. Then the egg cracked in three places, and Virgil could see the whole of the dragon.

Then he saw his partner.

The dragon was young, but it had a bold expression. It was as large as a juvenile fox, perhaps twice the egg's length from head to tail tip. As everyone watched, the dragon crawled over to Virgil and sniffed his left foot. Virgil crouched and smiled. He reached out his right hand, only an inch away from its snout. Only then he remembered that he read about the electric feeling he would get. Before he could pull his hand back from the oncoming agony, the dragon touched him.

Virgil gasped as an icy sensation tingled down his spine. He sat there trembling. For what felt like hours he was motionless. Once he had the energy, he stood up triumphantly, raising his right arm and showing everyone his new gedwëy ignasia.

Voices, cheers and yells filled the air. "A new Rider! A new Rider is born!"

**After I reread this book to update it, here are some explanations for some of the confusing parts. **

**Virgil knew what Thorn, Murtagh, Glaedr and Saphira looked like from books and illustrations, as mentioned in a later chapter. **

**I guess Virgil has a rather uncanny amount of knowledge about dragons. I'll try and make him seem less knowledgeable once I reach the Ellesméra chapters. **


	2. Chapter 2: Dragonheart

Virgil could hardly believe it. So many was happening at once. People ran to the center of the valley, yelling out to everyone, "Carvahall has a new Rider!" Roran was gaping with disbelief. He then shook himself, and grinned at his son proudly. Katrina ran to Virgil with her arms outstretched. Ismira practically smothered him in happiness. Even Arya had a smile on her face, which she hid in her raven hair. The sun was setting, but the entire village rang with warm celebration. Fírnen rose to his feet and roared, fire streaming from his enormous maw. The dragon remained like that for minutes, lighting up the crowded land with his ribbon of flames. People streamed in and tried to congratulate him. Children came up to him and twisted his hand, trying to peer at his shining palm. It felt itchy and glowed white. Older men patted his shoulders or slapped him on his back, which he considered as a warm welcome. Finally Roran reached him and said, "Well, my boy, you've grown popular in only ten seconds. Let's see if that will hold, Rider. We'll have a grand feast tonight! A grand feast indeed!" Then Katrina came over and hugged him, tears of joy in her eyes.

The dragon, however, did _not _like being ignored. It leaped into Virgil's arms, squeaking in displeasure. It was like the dragon was trying to say, "_I'm _the best, not him!" Then all the people laughed. The sound of their amusement seemed to anger the dragon further, for it leaped to a branch and attempted to roar. In comparison to Fírnen's bellows, it was like a mouse chattering next to a growling dog. A chattering mouse next to a growling Shrrg, more like it. But the people became silent, aware that the dragon could become foe easily, even though it was so small. Satisfied, the white dragon hopped back into Virgil's embrace.

Then Arya strode forward. Everyone stepped back to clear a path for the elf. She put her hand on Virgil's shoulders. Virgil fumbled with his dragon, then gently dropped the creature to the ground, and did what he thought was best. Following what he always read about, he twisted his hand in the elven gesture and said, "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Arya Dröttning." The elf-woman's eyebrows rose. She replied in kind, then said, "How is it that you know the elven tongue, O young Rider?" Virgil replied with, "I have indulged an interest in reading in the elves' script, and so I have grown used to speaking in the ancient language, Your Majesty." Arya looked at him in awe, then smiled and said, "Ah. I've heard mutterings here and there about a young boy who knew a little bit about the elves' Liduen Kvaedhí. Now I see that was you." Virgil nodded.

"Well, now that it's obvious that you are to be the next Rider, I would like to ask you, Virgil, what will you do?" Virgil remembered that he never told her his name; she must have read his mind. "You could raise this dragon here until he or she is three or four months old, so that you could ride on dragonback to Ellesméra." Now Virgil realized that she could have found out the dragon's gender for him, but refrained to tell him. However she remained speaking.

"Or you could let me spirit you there now. There are other options too, but I'd rather you choose between the two I've given you." said Arya. Then a vast being touched Virgil's mind, and he heard a deep male voice say, _The choice is yours to make, Virgil-finiarel. We would not object._ Virgil realized it was Fírnen who had spoken. The people around him seemed to have heard it too, for they looked around with fascinated expressions.

Virgil didn't hesitate. He felt that it would have been right to raise the dragon in the same place where Eragon had raised Saphira. Besides, if he only had four months left to live in Carvahall before beginning to train as a Rider, he would have to say goodbye to all his friends and family before that. He didn't want to think that he was going to leave without a care in the world. "I thank you, My Lady. I choose to raise my dragon here, just as Eragon Shadeslayer raised Saphira." A look of infinite sadness flashed in Arya's eyes once he mentioned Eragon's name, but when she spoke, her voice was neutral. "Very well. I too feel as if raising your new partner here would be an honorable task, just as I raised Fírnen on the crags where Glaedr lived."

She raised her right arm and formally said, "Now, with all of Carvahall present, I name you Rider Virgil, second human Rider after Eragon Shadeslayer, and I give you the title Argetlam, or Silver Hand, and I await your arrival in Du Weldenvarden."

Then, without another word , she climbed up to Fírnen's saddle. He spread his wings and rose to the sky. His large, green figure soon faded away in the darkness.

Like before, cheers exploded and people even began to sing. Virgil could recall them say,

_Oh, the sun was down, _

_When the elf in crown _

_Came upon our forest land,_

_The egg of a dragon in her hand_

_She and her great dragon in green_

_Saw what was to be seen,_

_The young Rider who was to be,_

_To fly beyond the lands and sea_

Virgil admired those people, for even though he often read and wrote poems and songs, he could not think up a verse so quickly. It was never heard before, and, in most cases, never to be heard again. But then, this was a special event. The cheering continued for hours.

Eventually, everyone grew tired of their merry celebration. The night fell into silence, though it was almost obvious that all of Carvahall knew of their new Rider.

Virgil was grateful that the valley was now silent. He was growing tired if being the center of attention for so long. He took the dragon into the forests of the Spine. He watched as the dragon sniffed its surroundings. It seemed to have something in mind. It kept prodding him with its thoughts. The connection was faint, but soon it made Virgil understand that it was hungry.

So he took the dragon to his mansion, where he lived with his family. Roran was there, and the expression on his face told Virgil that his father was pondering with the fact that both his cousin and his son were Dragon Riders. Roran smiled at Virgil. "Have you named your dragon yet?" he asked. "He's my partner, not some animal I picked up from the forest!" Virgil protested.

Roran scratched his son's hair affectionately. "Alright, then. But you still haven't answered my question." Virgil realized that he didn't know whether the dragon was a male or a female. He knew that dragons didn't have any marks to show their gender, so he decided that he would wait until the dragon told him itself. "Well, no, but I think it's a bit hungry. Do you have any meat from the cooks?" Ever since Roran became earl, they lived rather richly, but not so much as to drown in luxury. Virgil liked the simple way of his life.

"Well, perhaps they still have some roast beef. Or perhaps you could go hunting. I'm sure your 'partner' would want to have some time alone with you. You could use your bow." Roran suggested. Virgil scowled at the way Roran spoke of the dragon.

Virgil decided to hunt after all. He took his bow, his quiver, and twelve of his best arrows. The dragon held a questioning expression, along with a reminder that it was still hungry. Laughing, Virgil took the dragon to the Spine again and spent the sunrise hunting. The dragon followed him wherever he went.

When the sun was just above his head, Virgil already brought down a large deer. He was lucky; the animal had broken its leg; perhaps it fell from a higher place, or injured by another of its kind. He put the animal out of its suffering with an arrow to the heart, then dragged it back to the mansion. here he cut out a foreleg for his dragon. The rest was given to the cooks.

Sitting on a large gray stone, Virgil observed the dragon while it chewed on a leg bone, leaving bite marks all over the surface. The dragon let him know that he could leave, so Virgil left the dragon behind his house, but he kept his mind out for the dragon, so that it could call him whenever it needed anything. He did his best to stay close to the dragon, but he realized that they could touch minds until three leagues away.

That night, Virgil slept in his bed while reading a scroll. Then he got up, leaving the dragon on his pillow, and took out some paper, ink, and a quill. The feather twitched as he began to write. Once he was done, he admired his work. The poem read out:

_With wings and will,_

_With spikes and scales,_

_With claws and courage,_

_With talons and tails, _

_Dragons!_

_Born of Faith and fire,_

_With vastness and intelligence,_

_Dragons!_

_With hearts of iron,_

_With taste for adventures_

_Dragons! Dragons, flame and all._

Virgil resolved to continue the song whenever he had time, and to write one for each dragon he knew of. But then another though struck him. _I am a Rider. _The thought was so... vast, so uncertain. But inside the thought, he found a half-buried joy.

Foe the first time, the dragon contacted him in a more detailed way, but not so clear as to use words. It showed Virgil that it was content, happy, and proud to have him as its Rider.

Together they spent their first night as a pair. As a companionship. As friends. Virgil smiled at the thought, and fell into sleep quicker than he usually did.

**A/N: I realized that Roran referred to Virgil as Argetlam when I was updating. He may have learned the word from previous events, but I changed it to 'Rider' anyway. **

**I guess this one chapter has lots of typos. I'll try and fix all of then, if any remain please PM me or review me. Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3: Scrolls

The next morning, Virgil got out of bed. As he didn't have chores to do yet, he finished his poem of dragons. Then he wrote one about Saphira Bjartskular on a scroll. It read:

_Her scales, they shine like stars,_

_Her eyes, they glow so bright_

_Her teeth, points like swords,_

_Her roars, they echo in the night_

_Bonded to Eragon_

_Daughter of Vervada_

_Friend of Fírnen_

_And Bane of the Lethrblaka_

_She flew to the mountains_

_Fixed the Star Rose_

_Destroyed Uru'baen,_

_And fought Shruikan_

_Sapphire scales,_

_Ivory claws,_

_And thorny spikes._

_She has them all,_

_For she is Saphira,_

_She who stands tall._

Using a book as help, Virgil made a small image of the great dragoness in battle, with plates of armor on her neck, and fire, lots of fire around her. Virgil also drew a saddle on her back, with a faint figure upon it that was supposed to be Eragon but was too small to make sure of who it was. However, the picture still lacked something... Virgil drew a small silhouette of Thorn flying towards her.

Virgil rolled the scroll, pleased with his work. Then he observed the dragon again. It was still on his pillow, but it was already awake. Even though it still couldn't talk to him in words, and it couldn't understand language all that well yet, it still praised Virgil, so he acknowledged the dragon with a nod. Then he took another scroll and unrolled it.

The painting showed Saphira and Thorn in battle against Shruikan. Virgil had sketched it, but Ismira had painted it. He knew what they looked like from a book. Underneath the picture was an unfinished poem that read:

_He was huge, he was hard,_

_But slaved, but sick at heart. _

_He was in misery, he was in shock,_

_But he still had dreams turned into rock_

_She was smart, she was great,_

_But young, but afraid_

_She was uncertain, she was untested,_

_But to lose one of her kind, she never wanted._

_He was unlucky, he was twisted,_

_But..._

Virgil had given up searching for a description fit for Thorn. Shruikan had been difficult enough, while Saphira had been easy. Virgil wanted to write about his dragon, but he didn't know it well enough yet. He knew about Glaedr, though, for ever since the war was over, his name was spread throughout Alagaësia in honor of his Rider, Oromis. He also had a poem about the once-great golden-scaled dragon.

_He was a legendary hero_

_A noble and steadfast friend_

_Hatched from an egg gold and shiny _

_Lived in the ancient forests if elves_

_Last male dragon to be_

_Free! Free of fear and free of foes_

_For he was a legendary hero _

_A noble and steadfast friend_

_Mentored the blue dragon _

_Whom she gave a chance_

_A chance they all shared to_

_Fight! Fight the fear and fight the foes_

_Forever a legendary hero _

_The noble and steadfast friend_

Virgil smiled as he recalled the poem. It was somewhere in his room too, decorated by a picture of the dragon when his left leg was still intact, with his Rider on his back, wings raised, talons and teeth bared in a roar that would shake the forest.

Another one of his pictures showed Shruikan as a hatchling, with metal chains dragging at his feet and wings. His ice-blue eyes were pleading. His head was strapped down, his flank was bleeding, and he was muzzled. This was what Virgil had pictured the dragon's enslavement as. Pain, misery, sorrow, disbelief, hurt, broken, dishearten, tortured, and, most of all, a sense of infinite injustice. Virgil hoped that, if the afterlife really existed, the dragon would be happier where he was now and that he never meant any harm to the world.

Suddenly the dragon prodded Virgil's thoughts and told him that it wanted to explore more of the forest. That much had been clear. So after a quick chat with his family, he took the dragon out to the trees. There the dragon dug up a hole, and took out a buried bone. He didn't know what had put it there, but as the dragon gnawed at it, he realized that it was the same bone as before. He sat and shivered. It was a cold winter morning, and the sun was only halfway up. _If I were an elf, I would have named this dragon ever since yesterday. Blast it, why didn't I ask Arya or Fírnen what this dragon's gender is? Maybe because they wanted me to understand this dragon before they did. Still, it makes things no easier. _Virgil let the dragon play along, watching as it climbed a tree and spread its wings. Then it jumped, and fell down feet-first, dazed but unhurt.

Amused, Virgil observed the creature further. He lifted it and examined its belly. It was armored. Then he put it down and took one of its paws to his lap. He winced as the dragon flexed its talons, their tips sinking into his leg. While they played together, sometimes people would gather around him, asking him what the dragon's name was, whether it was a male or female, why Virgil didn't name it, and what the Marking of a Rider had felt like. He answered with "No, I haven't named it yet, I don't know its gender yet, I can't talk to it all that well yet, I need its approval for a name, and it felt cold and very strange."

Then he took the dragon to the Anora. The rushing river splashed cold water on his feet. The dragon toyed with a stone further away from the waters. The stone was like a ball, but it was yellow in color and more like an orb than a dragon egg. Virgil took it and examined it. The stone was small, about the size of his fist. It was perfectly spherical and smooth in texture. How nature formed it, he did not know, but he knew people would pay dearly to have it. He wondered why no one had taken it before him. It had the magnificence of an Eldunarí, but without the pulsing glow it had within to show that a consciousness lay inside it. Virgil made sure that it wasn't the egg of some sort of beast by tapping it with the hunting knife he had taken with him. The sound it produced rang around the forest. It was definitely not hollow, and it was rather translucent, so there was little chance of anything of a different material to be encased by the stone. He went over to the shade of a snow-packed tree and rolled the orb to the dragon. It caught the stone and began to bat at it with its paws, like a cat would with a ball of yarn. Laughing, Virgil took the stone from the dragon, as if teasing it. Annoyed, the dragon roared. Compared to the last time, this roar was more ferocious. It had grown in size too. The roar surprised Virgil, causing him to drop the stone. Concerned, he snatched it before the dragon could move and rolled it around his palm to make sure that it wasn't harmed by the fall.

Refreshing himself by pouring ice-cold water over his face, Virgil got up and played with the dragon for ages. During their time near the river, they encountered a wolf pup and his mother. The animal was very cautious of them. She growled at them once, but the pup ran at him and the dragon, interested in the strangers. Virgil tried to calm the mother wolf down, but he couldn't seem to make it understand. He gave up and let the pup explore them further. Its bushy tail swung from side to side. It had a rather goofy grin on its face, amusing Virgil. He let his dragon play with the pup.

While he waited, he twisted a vine around his fingers, then wound it around his hand. The green and brown stalk stretched as he pulled it. Looking closely, he saw small holes dotting the surface of the vine. He recalled the words for making a fairth in his mind. He imagined what the plant would look like if it were twining around a tree trunk, and what it would look like on the surface on a stone tablet. The vine had a single, shriveled leaf on it. The leaf was curled up, brown in color, and about the size of the feather of a baby bird. He took it off the vine, hardly hearing its snap amid the wolf barks and dragon roars.

After both dragon and wolf were tired, Virgil picked up his companion and watched as the mother touched noses with her son in affection. Then she took him by the scruff and dragged him to the safety of her den. Meanwhile Virgil cradled the dragon in his arms. It was panting heavily, and through their connection he could feel exhilaration and some sort of disappointment at having to leave the pup in the forest. The dragon whined as Virgil got up and made his way to his mansion. The sound was strange, as no one would expect the dragon to make such a sound. It kept looking back and trying to tell Virgil to turn around. Them it just told him it wanted to play again. Its toothy mouth opened and closed as it let out more noises.

Unable to bear listening to the squeaks it made, Virgil let the dragon down and watched it play with the stone he brought from the Anora River earlier. The dragon batted it again, careful not to hit it with its claws and making sure it never rolled more than two feet away from its feet. The stone did not scratch on the hard rocks it rolled upon. Virgil marveled the orb and decided to take it home with him.

Upon arrival, the dragon tripped on a stray tree root. It squealed loudly, both surprised and frustrated that it didn't see the root in its way. Pain jolted through Virgil. He quickly tended to the scratch the dragon received on its left hind leg. It was nothing serious, just a small line from the dragon's knee to its leftmost claw. The root was clawed away by sharp talons. Because it was thorny, the root caused more scratches to form on the dragon's belly, but a quick wash would clean the scratch, white as snow. The dragon looked at him through clear blue eyes. It's iris had streaks of sky blue running over a darker shade if the same color, of not slightly purplish. Then a thought, clearer than ever before, came from the dragon through their connection. _Virgil... My Rider._

**Note: Please review! I'm not that good at writing, and I would love some tips and advice. Thanks.**


	4. Chapter 4: Ren

Virgil smiled. _Ono...iet Skulblaka. _You... my Dragon. _Who else? _It asked. _Well, there are only so many magicians who could be contacting me at the moment..._

Then he looked at the dragon thoughtfully. _You need a name, you know. _The dragon tilted its head to one side, eyes blinking, with the tip of its tail twitching. Suddenly it pounced. _Oh, maybe not, I could be the greatest, most powerful dragon in history and yet not have a name, _it muttered dryly before letting Virgil up again.

Virgil smiled. _Let us go to my room and find a book on dragon names. Maybe you'd like one, perhaps the name of a dragon who slew one of Galbatorix's filthy helpers and their Dragons, or one who fought the Lethrblaka. _The dragon made no move to follow. _No. _It gazed at him with eyes like bottomless pools._ I will not have a namesake. I will be the first dragon to carry the greatest name ever to be known. _It held its determination. _Very well. But first, I must know. You're a he, aren't you? _Virgil was sure of it.

_Well... yes. but how did you know? _The dragon looked and sounded confused. _It was easy. You couldn't hide your feelings from me, you know...Would you like a name in the ancient language? _Virgil knew it was easier, as he had read words in the ancient language for months, even years.

The dragon indicated his approval, so Virgil searched for a good name while walking back to the trees. This time he spoke with both mind and tongue. "Well, there's Welden, Forest, and Rakr, Mist, and Istalrí, fla..." He trailed off as his energy dropped and he couldn't lift even a finger, let alone breathe. A log was set on fire, blue-white flames licking the wood as it crumbled. Summoning up scraps of energy, Virgil said, "Letta!" and the flame disappeared, crispy, blackened log behind. _On second thought, I shouldn't name you that, so that I won't set anything on fire whenever I call you. _He leaned against a tree, feeling as if he had been running around with a boulder on his back for hours. His feet couldn't support him, so he sat down. The dragon snorted with amusement, then touched him with his snout. He lent Virgil the energy he needed, then withdrew.

_Magic... all this is happening and I'm just sitting here like a fool. But why didn't anything happen when I said _rakr_? _The dragon said, _Maybe because it was an incomplete spell? Or because you said _istalrí _with more enthusiasm? You can never tell. Meanwhile, I suggest you stop worrying about your power and keep looking for something to name me with. _

_All right, all right... _Virgil browsed through his memory of elven words. _Maybe Könungr, king? Kveykva, lightning? _The dragon remained uncertain. _Perhaps you could cut a word and bind it with another? _Virgil replied with, _I could try... Istalkva?... No...Ren... _

Virgil was looking for a word to mix with _ren, _when the dragon said, _I like it. _

_What?_

_Ren. I like it. _Virgil said, _isn't it too short for a name? _

_...I guess so. Maybe _Îstalrren, _oath of fire? _The dragon obviously shared Virgil's knowledge about the ancient language. _Îstalrren... Îstalrren. _Virgil repeated the name again and again, and every time he said it with his mind, the more familiar it became. But he uttered _îstal _differently from _istal _in the ancient term for flame. He liked it that way.

And so did Îstalrren.

_Oath of fire... that is why I named myself that. Because I swear to protect you, my Rider, forever. _Îstalrren roared. And in that very roar Vigil could hear the triumph the dragon felt. If he could breathe fire, Îstalrren would have caused more people to cluster around them. As it was, they came up to them and wondered why the dragon had roared. Then they began to chant after learning the dragon's new name.

"Îstalrren! Îstalrren!"

Caught in the stir of shouts, Virgil and Îstalrren quickly retreated from the group once they had the chance to. Roran greeted them. He asked, "My, my, my, what have you been up to? The whole valley's been cheering for an hour now." Virgil replied with "Well, I've named _him_ Îstalrren. No wonder they're cheering, right? Besides, I'm the first Rider after Eragon-elda, the second Rider in Carvahall, and the first Rider after Galbatorix's death." Roran smiled. The villagers of Carvahall always stirred up whenever anything important happen. Then a thought struck him. "When are you going to Therinsford? You said you were going to join them with Carvahall to make an agreement and turn the two villages into the Palancar Province..."

Roran looked at his son. "Maybe Îstalrren could fly me there when he's old enough." Then he laughed at Virgil's face. His mouth was half-open. He had wanted to object, saying that Îstalrren was _his_ dragon, not his father's. "I kid you, don't worry. Maybe after you're off to Ellesméra, when they're sure that a Rider really is born here. Then they might want to comply."

After discussing further with Roran, Virgil went over to Ismira's room. She was painting. Virgil knocked the open door, and she looked over to them. "What're you painting?" Virgil asked curiously. "Your dragon, of course. I might sell it and get money for myself, as Dad only gives me so little money for more paint supplies. People would pay greatly for this, as no one else has seen your dragon closely enough to draw it correctly." She smiled. "Not _it, he. _His name's Îstalrren."

"Îstalrren? Odd name." Angry, Îstalrren projected his thoughts to her. _Odd as it is, no one knows what Ismira means, right? _Ismira doubled up in surprise. "Well, I guess so." Even though her voice was level, her face showed both shock and fear. But then, it was hard not to fear when a dragon was near. Ismira calmed down and asked, "Would you mind if I make Îstalrren sit down so that I could sketch a second figure?" Before Virgil could open his mouth, the white dragon commented, _Are you too scared to address me directly? Virgil is my Rider, and, through him, you sister. Let us be friends, human. And yes, I will sit for you, if Virgil does not object. _

After he gave his approval, Virgil watched as Ismira used a quill to carefully sketch Îstalrren's head, starting from his snout. The feather quivered in Ismira's grip. She drew his eyes quite easily, but found his neck and shoulders rather difficult to capture in a picture. She put one curved claw after another. She made spike my spike neatly, like an army of soldiers marching on a hill. The tail had a different texture, more rough than the belly. The fang that curved downward and forward from his top lip was made with a slight delay l as she had Îstalrren turn his head around many times to get a picture of how the tooth looked. His wings were folded against his back, looking like small pieces of cloth draped on him. His three horns on either side of his head were shown as sharp and glorious; the ones protruding from his cheeks, two on each side, were not halfway encased in scales like Glaedr's, but even more bared than Fírnen's. The hind legs were sticking out at shape angles, but gave him a look of nobility that was hard to capture.

After Ismira was done, both Rider and dragon excused themselves and went up to Virgil's room. Virgil looked at his Doberman-sized dragon and then to his bed, and back again. "You need your own place to sleep. By the time you'll be ready to go to Ellesméra, you'll be taller than a horse." Îstalrren yawned and said, _I don't mind sleeping outside. We dragons do not fear the cold, for we have fire in our bellies. Besides, I'll be in the forest, si no one would follow and worship me, even though that would be nice. _Virgil sighed. _Îstalrren, please. _He shook his head. Then he let the dragon go on his own. After a few moments Virgil received a picture of a clump of trees where Îstalrren would sleep. _Good night, Virgil. _And so Îstalrren withdrew from their connection.

The next morning, Virgil shot out of bed, changed his clothes, jammed his fingers into gloves and his feet into boots before running out to see Îstalrren. It wasn't easy for just anyone to find him, but with the dragon guiding him Virgil found the group of trees within the half-hour. Îstalrren was tall, his shoulders now as high as Virgil's waist. His scaly neck was about fourteen inches across. He was growing fast. They spent their morning together.

Virgil took Îstalrren to a field he knew, and tried to get the dragon to fly. It wasn't easy, but soon enough the people of Carvahall began to notice a larger-than-normal shadow in the sky, too big to be mistaken for a bird. Those days went fast for Virgil. The white dragon's head was now taller than Virgil's.

He realised that Îstalrren was now two months old. His growth had grown slower and slower. He was still too small to ride, but he could roar so loud that people for distances around could hear. He could dig a hole as deep as three feet in less than five minutes. He could fly so high that he began to chase the eagles and vultures in his demands to share the sky. He could blow smoke out of his nostrils. He could strip bark off a tree with his tongue. His talons could carve furrows in stone.

Meanwhile, Virgil began to brush up on his magic. People often gathered and watched as he lifted a sphere of water from the ground, turned things invisible and back again, made complex shapes with the smoke Îstalrren made. While Eragon's favorite spell was _brisingr, _Virgil's was, of course, _istalrí._

_Two more months and we will leave this place and explore the great lands beyond... what do you feel and what does your heart say, Îstalrren, for I greatly doubt out fate. _Îstalrren hesitated. _The fire is dimmed by doubt. It will flare again when the time comes. _Virgil grunted. _Stop speaking in riddles. I may be a poem writer. But I try my best not to show it in my speech. _Îstalrren shook his head. _This is a way for us to practice understanding each other. There in those deep waters in the sea of words that cannot express what I feel towards you, iet Shur'tugal. _

_Humph. _

On the third month after Îstalrren hatched, Arya and Fírnen arrived in Carvahall. The green dragon had appeared just above the horizon just as spring roused plants to life. The elf queen and her dragon caused more of the people to gather yet again. They came rushing to them at breakneck speed, and they carried an extra dragon's saddle with them. The leather was polished until it shone, with a single crystal-clear two-inch round diamond that adorned the head of the saddle. There were lots of straps; straps to hold Virgil's feet in place, straps to secure his wrists, and a girth with so many holes so that the saddle would still fit Îstalrren once he grew.

The elf had said, "Virgil-finiarel, this saddle once belonged to Brom and the first Saphira. Use it wisely, for it has been enchanted to never fail you whenever you need it most. Also," She added with a smile, "the purple dragon egg has hatched. The dragon inside was named Evarín, or Star. She is about a month old at the moment and is bonded to the young elf Alanna." When Virgil told him of his partner-of-heart-and-mind's name, Fírnen praised them both. _You carry a powerful name, young Irontooth. An oath of fire bounds you with Virgil indeed. _Then they departed, leaving the pair to think about their future.

**Note: Please review, thanks guys!**


	5. Chapter 5: Flight

Ever since Arya's departure, Virgil had begun to use 'Ren' as a nickname for Îstalrren. The villagers also called the white dragon in the same manner. But they also respected him and Virgil. He tried to tell them he was the same boy as before the white egg hatched, but they would not believe him. Unsettled, the only people he would go near were Roran, Ismira and Katrina, and of course Îstalrren.

Virgil put the saddle on Ren's back. Arya had taught him how to put the saddle in and tighten the straps correctly so that he did not arrive in Du Weldenvarden in scrapes. Once he was done he lifted his right leg and heaved himself into the saddle. He tied the bands, making sure they were secure, then took a deep breath as he let Ren know that he was ready. _Hold tight!_ The world suddenly turned upside down and back again as Îstalrren took off. Then he slowly ascended, and Virgil saw the world from an entirely different view. Suddenly Ren's mind pulled him. Virgil let him take control, as he was the one Virgil trusted the most, and mentally gasped as his sight blurred and he saw the world in the eyes of a dragon.

Everything looked strange. The sky stood out against anything else; the blue was clear and brighter than any other color. It was difficult to describe the sight he saw in words. The trees looked dull compared to the world above. He could see the mountains of the Spine. The colors red and green were reduced to an almost-grey shade. But as he grew used to the eyesight, he began to see what he would never see from underneath the trees of the forests. He saw the clearing where Îstalrren learned how to fly. He saw the place where Îstalrren hatched for him. He saw the place where Fírnen landed, where the trees leaned on one side and the grass was flattened. He saw his mansion, where he lived. He saw many, many more. People pointed at Ren while shouting. Some raised their arms and hands, cheering yet again. Through Ren's sharper ears Virgil heard them yell and shout and sing. He saw Du Weldenvarden as a smudge on the horizon. But not he, but _they. They _saw their destiny. _They _hovered over the forest together. _They _were one, together above the place of Virgil's birth, while he could see the forest that would be the place for him to learn magic from the elf who had given him the egg: Arya. She would have known what Virgil needed to know as a Rider, and Fírnen would know all a dragon needed to know too, before the Riders and their Dragons venture out of Alagaësia. Virgil marveled at the sight for hours. _Îstalrren... this is amazing. But do you always.. _Ren interrupted him. _Do I always see all this blue? Well, according to me, it's _you _who always sees so much red and green. _Nodding, Virgil tried his best to stay flat on Îstalrren's back. _Can we go to the Anora? I'd like to see it from above. _However, the real reason Virgil wanted to go to the river was to rejuvenate himself. The air here was freezing, and even icy water could wake him up. _Okay. _replied a tired Ren. The dragon was hungry. _I'm going to hunt some deer. It's been a whole since last time I ate, even though I could endure so long without a meal. I miss the earth of the prey. The taste, the tender meat. Oh, I would savor each bite. _Virgil chuckled. He held his position as Ren veered to the west in direction of the river. There they could see the rushing water, like waves chasing each other. The river wasn't as slow-moving as before, as the ice had melted into early spring. The forest was becoming greener, with leaf buds growing from trees. Small pink-and-red flowers were scattered across the ground like seeds scattered on a farmland. A huge pine stood with its dark green needles waving in the wind of Îstalrren's wings as he landed. The air vibrated as his talons touched the ground, then crouched as he absorbed the force of the collision.

Shaking, Virgil dropped down to his feet and took off Ren's saddle from the dragon's back. The white scales on his hide blurred as he took of again to track down some prey. Virgil said,_ Good luck. _Ren acknowledged him and concentrated on hunting. Getting up, Virgil splashed his face with slightly warm water, as the sun had risen to a good height from the horizon. Then he sat down and put a hand on the jewel on the saddle, took a deep breath and stored his energy into the diamond. He realized that Brom had stored some of the energy there before his dragon died. He felt a twinge of sympathy at his distant grandfather. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a dragon for a shirt while and have the joy torn away in a heartbeat. Now he understood why Galbatorix went mad once his dragon died.

_Caught anything? _called Virgil. _Not yet. Now stop worrying about me, there's a good chance of me catching this buck in front of me. _The dragon sounded frustrated and that Virgil was worrying for no reason. _Okay. _

Virgil kept storing the energy in the diamond until he was so tired that he couldn't stand. He watched the river rushing around the rocks that protruded from underneath the currents. Suddenly a roar of triumph rang in his head and Ren said, _I caught the buck! _To Virgil, it was a small accomplishment, but he didn't want to subdue Ren, so he congratulated the dragon and stumbled over to the carcass. Guided bu his sixth sense, he got over to Îstalrren and found him tearing the deer and, without chewing it, swallow each piece whole.

_Ugh. Um, Virgil, little help please? _Ren said. He was opening and closing his mouth, tongue flicking.

_What? _Virgil said, irritated. He was tired after trampling the forest to find the dragon.

_There's a bit of meat stick between my teeth and I can't get it off. _Heaving a long sigh, Virgil beckoned for Îstalrren to come to him. Opening his large mouth, Ren came closer. Virgil wrinkled his nose at the smell of meat and blood on the dragon's breath. He gingerly picked at the meat with two fingers until it fell out out the gap and onto Ren's moist tongue._ There, done. _

His jaw snapped closed. _Thank you. _In response, Virgil just grunted. He got up shakily. _Oh, great. I forgot the saddle! _He retraced his path until he found the leathery saddle and fastened it on Ren's back. For a while he just stood there with Ren in front of him, then he huffed and got up on the saddle, securing his wrists again. But Îstalrren didn't take off.

_You shouldn't store so much energy in the diamond, _scolded Ren. He gave Virgil some of his energy, then took flight.

_I know, I was just taking precautions. _

_Precautions? They may save your life, but try not to take it to an extreme level. _Ren muttered, rolling his eyes. Even though they were flying, Virgil could tell Ren was doing so by their connection.

_Okay, you can stop lecturing me._

_Lecturing? I'm just saying, you know. _

_Well, you can stop saying things with such sarcasm, Ren, I'm tired of it._

_I already lent you energy, and your still tired? _Ren said mischievously.

_You might as well stop that. _

_And I might as well continue if I want to. It's not easy to argue with a dragon. Besides, it's always the dragon who wins in the end._

_As if I didn't know that... Ren, why did you hatch for me? _Virgil feared the answer. He was just the nephew of Eragon. The clumsy, reckless, foolish nephew of Eragon Shadeslayer. What was it that made him so special? Aside from this and that, he was weak. He could use a sword, yes, but a one-eyed elf could beat him in seconds single-handedly. He could speak the ancient language, but vaguely. He could read, but so could almost everyone in Alagaësia. He could write poems, but they were poorly worded, and no one admired them that much.

_Because... From within my egg... I felt that your being... your very soul... held something, just _something _that no one else had. It's hard to describe this, Virgil. I didn't choose you because you were son of Roran, I promise. I couldn't find that much out from such a cramped space. Your sister gave me the feeling I got from you, but not as strong. Hers I could sense only when she touched me; yours I could feel from far away. When you came nearer, it felt strangely strong. It affected me, inspired me... helped me grasp a true purpose, a _true _reason for me to hatch for you. You're the partner of my soul, my heart and my mind. It felt like my egg was now a barrier between me and you, when it used to feel like a safe haven where I could feel protected. Iet Shur'tugal, I did not know you knew so much about magic or the ancient language. I did not sense that you had a great Dragon Rider as your uncle. I felt him once, where he found me and the other eggs. You have a different way of helping. Thus having a different impact on me. Even if Eragon was without a dragon of his own, I doubt that I would hatch for him. This is why I an not destined to be a wild dragon. I feel a need to do something, do what is right instead of gambling around like a blind hatchling like those Riderless dragon's do. You can be foolish and hard headed sometimes, yes, but so does everyone else. Even me. I could sense your mistakes and your problems, but they were small compared to what you've done right. That's why I chose you. _

Virgil closed his eyes, trying to stop fresh tears from running down his cheeks. He dis not cry because he was sad, but not because he was happy. Then he smiled, and hugged Ren's neck with both arms while trying to avoid his spikes. _I'm lucky to have you as my partner. I wouldn't give you away, ever, even if Queen Nasuada herself would give me everything she has in exchange. You are worth more than the treasured of a thousand kings. You are more precious to me than my talents and knowledge. I need you more than I need the air in my lungs. I love you more than I love to read and write. I would rather be locked up with you in a cell than live with riches without you. I would do anything for you. I would protect you as fiercely as a mother Shrrg would protect her pups. You're my friend, forever and always._

_And... and you mine. _Ren gave him the mental equivalent to a hug.

Once they landed, Virgil took the saddle to a safe place before he walked into his room, reluctant to leave Ren behind. But then he received an image from Ren, of him flying in the sky during sunset, reddish clouds making him look contrasted.

Virgil concentrated upon the picture. He could see the sun creating lines of orange and red painted on a yellow background. The clouds were small and light. The treetops were no longer bare and snow-covered, but green with newly grown leaves. A few birds flew alongside Ren, but not too close as they were aware of the dragon's sharp teeth an long fangs. One of them was veering away from the dragon. Another detail surprised Virgil. The sky behind Ren was still blue. Half of the picture was in the sunset, and the rest was in late afternoon. Virgil forgot that when it was day in one place, it could be morning moles, miles away.

Virgil dwelled upon the picture for a while longer before letting his thoughts wander as he lay down in his soft bed, waiting for himself to fall asleep or for Ren to call him. He thought of how soon his trip to Ellesméra would occur. He resolves to store more of his energy in the diamond again, for the flight could be difficult for Ren as it would be for him.


	6. Chapter 6: Burnt

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait, I really liked this chapter and wanted to put in as much effort as possible. Please review, I need help with it, and enjoy reading! **

_Virgil opened his eyes as he heard the explosion. Screams tore through the air. The sky was thick with smoke. He couldn't breathe. His eyes stung. He blinked but none of the effects lessened. He was sweating, the heat was almost unbearable. Here and there were sounds if people yelling and water splashing as people tried to extinguish the flames that licked the ground. Fire lit up the crowded roads. Virgil tried to move, to run, to flee, but his legs were as lifeless as stone. After a short moment Virgil realized that he _wasn't _there; he couldn't see his hands, feet, or body. He felt strange, as if he hovered an inch above the ground. For a while he fixed his eyes on a burning piece of paper, with its blackening corner vanishing as it was devoured by the hungry tongue of flame. Then a breaking sound startled him and he saw that, next to the burnt paper, a pot had fallen and the rose inside was glowing with an ominous red color. The petals were darkening already, but the leaves remained untouched. The pot was broken and singed by the fire with ash covering part of the shattered clay. The sight of the rose, dirt, pot and fire inspired Virgil. It showed a great and terrible sight, of the merciless yet breathtaking flame taking away the life of the wasted beauty of the red flower. The flower was _dying, _its very life was fluttering above the stalks. Then a part of the pot fell away to reveal the roots. They were entangled with each other and blackened, but by the dirt, not by the flame. Soon the petals of the rose were turned into ash and the stalk was starting to burn. The leaves were beginning to shrivel. The roots were still okay, slightly wet, even. Then Virgil saw more of the destruction and realized that he was on a hill close to a mountain of the Spine. The screams he heard were really the shrieks of animals like deer and wolves. Th sound of water he heard were really the trickles of a stream nearby that was steaming with heat. The water was like a guard; none of the flames went past the line of liquids. The pot he saw was really caked and dry dirt. He wasn't surprised that he was mistaken; his sight was blurred. The trees ringed the small hill. Then Virgil's sight wavered and he found himself looking at the lump of dirt that he had taken for a pot._

_The rose was gone._

Then Virgil woke up, breathing fast. He rubbed his forehead with a sweaty palm. His stiff hair felt as if it were singed. He immediately contacted Ren.

_What is it? _came the lazy reply. _A lion in your bedroom? A snaglí hissing an inch from your ear? Or is Cadoc licking you? _He was referring to a stray cat Virgil's family took in. The cat was a ginger orange, with intelligence and delicate moves. He often nipped Virgil's ear whenever he was hungry. _Or is that cat smothering you?_

_...nothing. Just had a nightmare. _

Îstalrren snorted. _Don't think about it. It's the middle of the night and your panic is keeping me awake. We've a long journey ahead of us. Don't you remember that were off to Ellesméra today? _The past month had slipped by quickly. _Go back to sleep. _

_I don't think it was just a nightmare..._

_Oh? Then what was it, a premonition of some sort?_

_Maybe it was. _Virgil said uneasily. _In the dream I focused on something that I would have overlooked in normal dreams. _

_What was it? Something important?_

_A rose. A thornless burning red rose, destroyed by the flame. _

_Oh. Don't think about it for the time being. _

_Okay... good night, Ren. _

_Hmm._

Virgil turned in an oil lamp and did a quick sketch of the burning rose so that he wouldn't forget it. With a few lines there and a splash if color here, the picture was done. It was imperfect around the petals, but he would finish it when. He had plenty of time. He rolled it up and put it into a saddlebag, as well as a few other things he felt like he needed. For some reason he took the orb he found near the river. He stuffed it with rags to protect the stone, though he doubted it would break. Since he found it, he had dropped it twice, and each fall failed to scratch the resistant surface.

He slept rather reluctantly that night. It was a shallow sleep, and he woke to every noise, like the howl of a house dog or the caw of a crow. Whenever he woke, he grasped his blanket with tense fingers and the picture of the wilting rose flashed in his head. The scene replayed itself over and over again. He knew he wouldn't forget it. When he knew he couldn't sleep again he got up and grunted.

_This is going to be a fine day. First, goodbyes and words. Second, donating all our energy before and after breakfast. Third, fly to Ceunon and be there as soon as possible._

_Virgil, lighten up, will you? It's not that bad. This trip should go on fine. Besides, you might want to meet Alanna and Evarín for the first time, right?_

_You might be, but right now I feel like doing nothing more than sitting and sketching. _

_Your concern about your dream troubles me deeply, but don't dwell on it. You can just tell an elf..._

_Maybe. Maybe not. Probably. Perhaps. I'll take the picture of the rose with me._

And so Virgil heaved himself up and, as he stepped out of his house yells and screams echoed as people called, "Good luck, Rider!", "Safe travels!", "Bring happiness with you to Ellesméra!" On the other hand, some people were grave, saying that elves shouldn't train a human Rider, that the forests of Du Weldenvarden were an array of traps and treachery. They said that elves were born of evil and hatred, unlike humans who felt like they born of blood and flesh. But if that was true, Eragon wouldn't have killed the king, for Oromis and Glaedr were the ones who taught him. Virgil still grieved for the Rider and dead dragon. He had wished to someday meet the gold-clothed dragon. Virgil had to suppress his dismay; the great golden dragon was dead, and Virgil would never meet him, for both Glaedr and his Rider had passed into the void over a decade ago.

So he put himself into trusting the elves and finished saying goodbye to all of Carvahall. He found people crowding Ren as well, and for the first time the dragon was talking quite comfortably with the people. They smiled and petted him, talked to him about what they knew about dragons, and referred to him as the Son of Flame and Wind. They complimented him as the kin of Saphira, and so they called him Îstalrren Brightscales. Ren was answering the people with slight arrogance and smugness, but the humans surrounding him would not have noticed. Children tried to get on his back, but Ren did not allow them to so that they did hurt themselves on his spikes.

Fastening the saddle on Ren's back was easy and was done in only a short time. Then Virgil and Ren added more of their energy to the diamond. He did so while placing a hand on it and talking, so that no one suspected a thing. It wasn't a big secret, but it wouldn't help if everyone knew there was a great mass of power in the diamond.

Then Virgil ate a hefty breakfast of meat, fish, bread, rice and mushrooms. He savored the fish most, and enjoyed eating the mushrooms. He also ate some vegetables, such as celery and carrots. He ate a small piece of bread the size of his fist. He ate beef and rice together. All in all, it was a delicious meal, while Ren enjoyed a whole goat. They ate and repeated the process of saving their energy in the gemstone afterwards.

Leaving would have been extremely hard for Virgil without goodbyes. It was hard to imagine how his uncle had done it. Sure, he had Brom, but other than that he left so many people behind, including Virgil's father Roran to unknown danger such as the now-extinct Ra'zac and their parents, the Lethrblaka, even though Eragon didn't know the Ra'zac even _had _mounts when he left. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as he walked with Ren to his house. He could walk, but he was sad, and so Îstalrren offered for him to sit in the hollow on his back. Virgil climbed up his scaly leg without complaint. He rode with his feet hanging down and his eyes focused on the motion of huge claws moving back and forth. Once or twice he glanced back and watched Ren's huge white wings rocking to the wind that shook the curtained wings. At the house he found Roran, Katrina and Ismira, as well as Cadoc, named after Roran's grandfather as well as the steed Eragon rode halfway through Alagaësia.

Roran gave Virgil a blessing, and the words a father would give to his son whenever he thought the time was right: "I have some words to tell you, my young boy. It's time I said them, as you are entering the world. Heed them and they will serve you well. These words may mean nothing to a Rider. But my father said them to me, and it's only right that I say them to you now."

He cleared his throat and Virgil listened on. "First of all, let no one rule your mind or body. Take special care that your thoughts remain unfettered. One may be a free man and yet be bound tighter than a slave. LGive men your ear, but not your heart. Show respect for those in power, but don't follow them blindly. Judge with logic and reason, but comment not.

"Consider none your superior, whatever their rank or station in life. Treat all fairly or they will seek revenge. Be careful with your money, even though you seem to have lots, it could be spent is a heartbeat. Hold fast to your beliefs and others will listen." Roran paused and began to speak at a slower, more careful and deliberate pace. "Of the affairs of love, my only advice is to be honest. That's the most powerful tool to unlock a heart or gain forgiveness." He glanced at Katrina and smiled. "That is all I have to say, but as a Rider, there are many things I cannot teach you."

In a hoarse and rough voice, Virgil shook his head and said, "You can tell me all I need to know and all the knowledge in the world will not be the same without your words, Father. I will miss you with all my heart, but I will return someday, I promise. I will return, even if I come back as a stranger and as a changed person." Resolving to do so wasn't easy, but he would come back even if it took years to arrive, and even if he looked like an elf and Ren was was large as Shruikan before the massive black-scaled but not black-hearted dragon died.

Hugs and tears and few words and prayers came from Katrina and Ismira. Then they hugged each other, and Virgil gave Cadoc an affectionate petting, then told the cat he was going but would return soon. The cat released a feeling of understanding. Ismira picked the cat up and stroked him. She said, "Brother, I have little to add to what Father said to you. I only say that I wish you luck in Ellesméra and that you do not forget us." She looked as if she had choked on something, and stopped talking and thrust herself into Virgil in a hug.

Virgil had tears in his eyes. He wiped his face with the back if his sleeve and watched the sun, which was to set in four or so hours. "I think I'd better be going now. But, as I said, I'll return even if the sun was down and a headwind was blowing sand into our eyes."

And so he left with no one but his dragon. He took his saddle and a couple saddlebags. One held his picture of the rose, another had his water in a flask, as well as the stone he had. The water was warm, for the skies were cold. And he felt as if he should take the stone with him, and so he did. The rest were things he needed most, like food and clothes. He also had his bow and arrows, along with a small hunting knife. He only brought some bread with him and he knew that it wouldn't be enough. He had decided to take it easy on the trip.

_Come on, here's your saddle. Let's get it on you and take off. People are waiting to see our departure. _

_They wait for everything we do. When we fly, when I come out with you, when I land, when you carry the saddle, everything you do impresses them. _Ren said in a sarcastic tone.

_Oh, but they've only seen three other dragons in their lives. _Virgil said. _Which is, in total, four more than the usual number. _

_I guess. _

_Suit yourself. _

Virgil realized that he had always been the one to end a conversation with Ren, or at least most of the time. Other times Ren would speak to him in a tone he couldn't answer to. But that didn't matter now as the saddle was now on the dragon's white, scaly, rough back. He got up and laced the straps around him and signaled to Ren.

People below cheered, their voices ringing out into the afternoon sky. They hoped that a second Rider from Carvahall would be a chance to help them, he realized. Humans often judged people in unreasonable ways, such as where they came from, but when they do it's helpful to be of a place where two Riders were made and the people of the valley migrated from their home to Surda and back.

_You need more sleep. The dream kept you awake for a while. Don't worry, I'll make sure you won't fall, Virgil. Those straps should keep you in place too._

_Thank you. _Virgil sank back and Ren slowed down. Virgil admired the landscape of trees for a while before closing his eyes and letting his thoughts wander while he slept.

But his sleep was often disturbed.

_He saw the rose, in a castle this time. The castle was burned down and shattered as well as cracked around the floor. But one could take a look at the place and know that it had once been a great palace. Then Virgil heard a melody sing it's way through the wreckage. The music came not from his mouth, not from someone else, but rather rang out from all directions. The rose that had been reduced to a blackened pile of ash and root began to take on a new shape. First, the roots planted themselves in the surrounding soil. Next, the ash separated to show that part of it had changed into a new stalk that began to slowly straighten up. Then the leaf formed itself in a similar manner, then the petals. Then the cracks of the walls and floors disappeared, fading away leaving a dirty old cathedral. The dust began to form into a single cloud in the middle while the marble walls shine, as did the floor beneath the cloud. The puff if dust did not drop any of its filthy load on the floor. Then the cloud vanished, living rose and clean castle left in Virgil's sight._

Once in a while, Virgil woke up, but in a short time he fell asleep again.

_Now he was in a tent. A dark tent, lit by a flame lantern. A tiny lantern it was, shaking now and then, following the movement of the rickety tent. Wind howled and roared outside. But Virgil couldn't go out to see where he was. No, he just sat there cross-legged. And this time he _was _there, not like in the two dreams he had before. No, he was sitting there all right, but motionless. He just watched the rose in a bottle in front of him. It was more like a jar than a bottle, though, with a wide base. The rose inside was flaming again, but instead of ash, blood came out. _Blood, _red liquid seeping out of the flower, as if it were wounded. Blood, a rose, and a flame. To Virgil, that was a title fit for a book. Now the rose didn't burn with the fire it was in contact with. The rose just stayed there, with fire as its crown and blood as its throne. Then the tent shook again. Wind tore the flaps of the tent door and rattled the small lantern. Then the flame died away, leaving Virgil to rely on the rose's flame to guide his sight. He reached out with hands that moved my themselves and pulled the rose out of the jar with two fingers, not because he wanted to get as little blood as possible on his hand but because the mouth of the jar only allowed two of his fingers in. Then the rose came out. Virgil mouthed something again, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. Then the rose became dry and flameless. _

Virgil woke up. He didn't know how far Ren had flew, nor how long he slept, but his consciousness slipped and he entered his dream world again.

_The forest was healed of its destruction. Now the rose was in a golden pot, with intricate curves in the shape of flame decorating the surface. Diamonds shone in the light the trees failed to block, and Virgil walked willingly around the pot to see that four diamonds were planted into the gold. One was clear, one was blue, one was red and the last was green. The rose inside stirred, then grew. It grew slowly, but fast enough that the eye could see a change every few seconds in the rose. It grew bigger and bigger. The first time Virgil saw it, the rose was about as tall as the cat Cadoc's shoulder. The second time, it was four inches taller. In his dream in the tent, it had grown another inch. Now it grew until it was as tall as a horse. Soon it was no longer a rose, but a rosebush. Small pink flower buds bloomed in a matter of seconds. Leaves sprouted and grew to a good size. And, at last, the bush stopped growing. It stood there before Virgil, it's massive structure casting shadows in the ground. First it was broken and burnt, then it struggled to grow before having to face great destruction. Then it began to rise, and as it grew, the rose gained what it would have wanted, to flourish and spread its kind._

**Note: Yay, update! Fixed all the typos and errors I saw, but if you notice any that wriggled out of my sight, please tell me! By the way, do you think it's wise to name a cat after a horse that's named after a human? I just really liked the name Cadoc. Meow. **


	7. Chapter 7: Guard

**Author's Note: Seriously guys, please review! Sorry for the late update, I was let down by having more chapters than reviews. Now come on people who haven't reviewed, do it or no update! **

**I'm going to re-update some of the earlier chapters. **

Virgil woke with a start. He heard a distant, _Virgil? _But he did not reply. The sound of Ren's question had sounded quiet enough, and Virgil was feeling rather dizzy. Why did he dream about a rose? If the rose _really _meant nothing, then he wouldn't have had so many dreams about it. He was pretty sure that the rose didn't symbol him or Ren; that much was obvious. So who was it?

Arya? She had grown in Ellesméra, and she was, to any man, beautiful as a rose itself. She had been tortured in Gil'ead, after all, like the burnt rose. Then she was saved by Saphira, Eragon and Murtagh. That would have been the rose growing and healing in the castle. Then her mother died in great battle. That must have impacted the elf very badly; especially since they were together for such a short time. But then she became queen of the elves, and Fírnen hatched for her. It would be enough for the rose to grow, but was the joy really that enough to water the rose until it became a rosebush? Besides, Saphira had to leave Fírnen, and Virgil knew how a dragon's feelings can impact his Rider. It would have left a dark raincloud hanging over the rose, wetting the rose's soil and causing its golden pot to rust, as well as preventing enough sunshine to get to the rosebush.

Ismira? She was young, but an important part of Virgil's family. The burning rose could have been when Eragon left. Losing an uncle to the world outside Alagaësia would have hurt more if she had a chance to meet him, but both she and Virgil regretted the fact that they didn't know their uncle all that well. The healing rose would be her having him as a new little brother. And yet, Virgil doubted the dying rose was because she didn't become a Rider. Chances were little, and most people learned to live with it. Or perhaps it was Virgil's departure that shook her. But then, it might be that the rosebush was yet to happen.

Katrina had faced a hard life. The flamed rose would be the fact that Roran wasn't allowed to marry her. The flourishing flower would be when Virgil's father asked her to marry him. The bleeding rose in darkness would be her capture in Helgrind. The rosebush was having a great life in Carvahall with two children and the mad king dead. But, like Ismira, Virgil leaving would have hurt her, perhaps drying a few flowers and leaves.

Virgil gave up thinking for the moment. He did not bother asking how long it took them to get there, but they were obviously at Ceunon by now. He could feel a slight pleasure in Ren. Virgil checked the diamond. Its energy was barely reduced, so Ren must have used very little of it, so there was a chance that they were still far away from their destination, the other side of Ceunon. So Virgil slipped back into his shallow sleep.

_This time Virgil saw not a rose, nor a rosebush. In front of him was Ren. He saw his dragon fly over the ocean, without anything in the dragon's mind but panic. On his back was the saddle, empty and bloodstained. Ren bore injuries too, red lines stretching down his legs and sides. A particularly curvy scar made its way down his snout. Blood no longer dripped from the wounds but they were still fresh. _

_Ren flew faster and faster, not paying attention to anything but the endless stretch of water, the clouds, and the small line ahead of him, just above the horizon. It was an island, or a continent. Ren's wings beat quickly, matching themselves to a rhythm that reminded Virgil of the stories people would sing in Carvahall. _

_A Nïdwhal was moving swift beneath the waters. It jumped, and Ren barely dodged, pretty much not thinking about I'm the quick escape. The sight of the dragon and his worry struck Virgil. _Where would I be at that time? _He wasn't anywhere to be seen. _

_Ren reached the water's edge and made his way to a field. The field was reddish with marks of a battle. Footprints were to be found everywhere. Even dragon footprints. Wheel tracks. Arrows. Spears. Blackened wagons. Frayed rope. A body of a fallen horse. Dented armor. Lost swords. Bent shields. Snapped bows. And, in the middle of it all, a small figure that Ren rushed to. Was it Virgil?_

Then the images changed.

_A rose glowed white. It was before the light of a thousand candles. The candles were white, and their flames flickered with the colors of rainbows. Each flame had a different tint to it, one was blue, next to it was green, then yellow. There were purple ones. But they were rearranging themselves, slowly, until they formed a tidy array of shades. White, then pink, then red, then orange, yellow, then green, turquoise, aquamarine, blue, dark blue, purple, then black. The rose had a single shadow growing from it, which was strange, because a thousand lights usually meant a thousand shadows. The shadow morphed, but before Virgil made sure why it turned out to be, the picture of his mind swirled._

_Sparks flashed against a black backdrop. The clicking of metal. The sound of a hammer. The roar of fire. The cracking of coals. An iridescent white blade. Gleaming with the light a hundred lanterns could not match. Erisdar gleaming behind the coals. The blade had nothing to hold it. It flew, held in place by an invisible hand. It slashed through all it made its way through. Metal, rock, even glass and ice. Nothing was damaged. _

_An orange egg. A closing door. Joy of a new Rider. Yells of anger. Sound of rage. Roars. Growls. Slashes. Red. Blue. White. Swimming in front of Virgil's eyes. _

_Virgil! Wake up, Arya and Fírnen are waiting for you! _

_What...? _

Virgil blinked. His eyes snapped open and he straightened up as he twisted his hand while sitting in his saddle. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Arya Dröttning. I never expected for you to come on your own, Your Majesty."

Arya looked worried. "Virgil, Îstalrren. Have you heard? A dragon egg was taken from the castle."

_A dragon egg? Castle?! Tialdarí Hall, perhaps? _Ren said. Fírnen said, _Aye, an orange dragon egg. I'm afraid that a strong spellcaster had the gates open and allowed a young elf by the name of Röex in. The dragon hatched and he ran away with the orange creature a month ago. It appears that they always meant to do so. The spellcaster who did it only wanted to take something he forgot, and was pushed aside by Röex. The young elf was stronger than the others. No one knew why he ran away. He casted wards upon himself, so we could not find or scry him. Most of the elves are bent on capturing him, not realizing that there's another problem. The number of eggs left are uneven. We needed to contact Eragon, but we also needed to get you to Ellesméra, so I decided to do both. _

Arya took out a mirror. She murmured a few words and the mirror turned black. "We will contact Eragon this way."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Virgil said. He watched as Arya cast a spell for scrying, as well as for the subject to see who was scrying, a spell to hear as well as see.

The mirror wavered like it was underwater, then colors appeared and Virgil saw the face he had always wanted to see: Eragon Shadeslayer. He had pointed ears, much like an elf's, brown hair, brown eyes, and a thick jaw. His face was broader than that if most elves, and few would take him for a purebred, human or elf. The expression on his face showed many: wisdom, wariness, joy, questioningly, and most of all, a longing so strong that Virgil wondered what it was. Arya bore a similar expression. Then Virgil shook the thought off his shoulders and watched Eragon as he spoke.

"Arya Dröttning. Fírnen Bjartskular. And I take it you are Virgil-finiarel and Îstalrren-finiarel?"

They all greeted each other. Soon Saphira joined in. Each of the Riders relayed the words of their dragons. Ren was looking in awe at Saphira. He kept telling Virgil how amazing the blue dragon looked like, how massive her bulk was, how legendary she was. Ren soon dropped the topic as Arya spoke of Röex and the orange egg, or more likely, the hatched dragon that ran away with his Rider. Virgil realized that Arya wanted Eragon to send an egg over, either by magic means or using one of his two students, or even coming back himself.

_This Röex elf must be mad to think he can get around me, _said Ren.

_What! _Virgil said. _He and his dragon may be young, but do you remember when I told you about Thorn? He was younger and yet larger than Saphira. Röex is an elf, after all, so he would know about how to accelerate his dragon in size and strength, even teach the dragon what it needed to know. You can never tell._

_Then you could quicken my own growth. _Ren was stubborn, but Virgil could tell that he was at unease.

_I'd rather you be as large as you are old. _

_Very well. But if Röex _does _make his dragon grow faster, I hope he didn't make the dragon as large as Fírnen, so that we have hope of winning this battle. _

_True. _

"...and that is why you _must _send us a dragon egg. We need it within this century." Arya was saying her words carefully. Virgil realized that a century would be a rather short time for an elf, as they could live for millennia. Virgil felt a pang of homesickness.

"Hmm. Well, there are two eggs at the moment which are to be destined for Riders: Láukan and Neø's grey egg and Arunîa and Threkkan's green egg." Eragon twisted his mirror. Within a few moments the Rider reached a huge dragonhold chamber. Dragons and their eggs were everywhere. Eggs of all sizes and colors were in view. Some of the eggs were bright some were dark. Eragon came upon a grey egg the color of a smooth rock. It was slightly translucent, so if Eragon picked it up Virgil would see the surface darken on the other side, but not close enough to see that it was a hand beneath it. The egg reminded Virgil of thunderstorms. The egg was the color of a dark cloud. It was a bit larger than Ren's egg. "This," said Eragon, "is the egg of Láukan, who is bonded to the dwarf Rider Shûrn. Láukan was brown, and her mate Neø was a very dark green."

Then he placed his hand on another green egg. This one was very light green, like the youngest of leaves. It was very different from the color of Fírnen's scales. It was larger at least twice the size of Ren's egg.

_Why is that egg so big? _

_Because Arunîa was bigger than my mother. Or so I got from Fírnen. A small dragon would lay a small egg, and a huge one would lay a huge egg, he said._

_When did he tell you? _

_When you were busy watching Arya and Eragon speak. _

_Oh. _

"This is the egg of Arunîa and Threkkan, who is bonded to Ulreq. Arunîa was a pale blue, while Threkkan was a striking red." Then he turned his vision towards his mirror, where he could see Arya and Virgil. "Well, which one is to be spirited to Alagaësia?"

Arya and Fírnen conversed. That much Virgil knew, but what they said he did not. Then Arya said, "The grey one. We already have a light green dragon egg in storage, so it would be rather confusing to have two at the same time. To tell you are location, we are at the eastern outskirts of Ceunon." She added a few more details about where they were, as well ada turning the mirror around several times to show Eragon. Then the blue Rider murmured a few words.

A blinding flash appeared in front of the small group of four.

**Note: I keep noticing that I often write the word 'of' as 'if' due to spell check errors. Sorry!**

**In response to a guest's review, Arya is cautious and would not use the spell in front of the other elves. She rarely gets privacy as she is queen. Few magicians actually know that the Name exists and could be so useful. Perhaps somewhere in the journey she will do so after making sure Virgil isn't there. As for the POV of Eragon or Saphira, maybe we will see more of them in later chapters. I might even write in Láukan or Threkkan's POV, or that of a wild dragon. It would be hard, though, as they can't use language (the wild dragons, I mean) but rather sensations and pictures.**


	8. Chapter 8: Skyward

Silver mist glowed in front if them. Among those clouds of grey, Virgil knew, was the dragon egg. Arya watched motionless, as did Eragon. Then she turned and spoke to the Leader of The Riders. She ended the spell and put the mirror back where she took it. The smoke-like puffs were beginning to disperse. Virgil could see the egg by now; it was the same color as the dust around it, and was nothing more than a larger, darker copy of Ren's egg. But once the embryo within hatches, Virgil could imagine how fierce the dragon, or dragoness, would be.

Arya stored the egg in a saddlebag. She carried it with great care; losing two eggs within a month would be a great loss. "There. Would the two of you go with us now, or would you like a day's rest first?"

_I, for one, would like to go now. The sooner we get there, the better. _Ren projected his thoughts to everyone to save time.

"Me too. I had some sleep during the way here, so I think I can manage the day as a trip." Virgil was enthusiastic now, forgetting all about his dreams. He wanted to fly on Ren's back for _real, _not some small roundabout trip like the ones he had in Carvahall. He watched as Arya got up on Fírnen's back. She buckled herself, as did Virgil.

The dragons took off. First was Fírnen, green wings flapping to ascend himself and his Rider to the reaches of the sky. Afterwards was Îstalrren, his movements steady and quick. They flew with ease and relaxation gripped Virgil. They were not chasing a deadline, so they would not need to rush unless there was an oncoming storm. Ren began to enjoy himself, managing to roll once, shaking Virgil but without making him complain. Fírnen was more still, only maneuvering whenever he needed to. His wings created a sound unlike the ones Ren would make, as his wings were greater than that of the white dragon. The egg was safe in Arya's load.

The flight was making it hard for conversation without touching minds, for every word Virgil uttered was lost in the wind, so that even Arya's keen ears could not capture their meaning. They spoke with their thoughts.

_Arya Dröttning, what will I do once I reach Du Weldenvarden? _

_You will train, of course. _The elf seemed faintly surprised.

_Yes, but how, where, and who will teach me? Forgive me for asking so much, Dröttning, but I would pay a to rather handsome price for an answer._

_Well, as you are working with Alanna and her dragon Evarín, you will discuss that. You could have me as your master, if you like, and call me and Fírnen as your Ebrithilar. You could go straight to Eragon, in which case you go by boat or dragonback, with elves to keep you company and return, or wait until one of the elves who came with Eragon Shadeslayer to come and go with you._

_Do you have one elf in mind, Dröttning?_

_Yes, an elf named Blödhgarm. He was one of the spellcasters sent from Ellesméra to protect Eragon in the first place. _

_Oh._

The Rider pondered the elf name for a while. He knew that 'Blödh' meant 'Blood' but he didn't know what the rest meant. Why would an elf name himself with such a word as his prefix?

Virgil talked with Arya, Ren and Fírnen for a long time. He talked about many things, such as dragons, the ancient language, Eragon, Saphira, elves and Glaedr.

_It's too bad that Glaedr had to die... _Virgil had said.

Arya held a strange feeling, but she only said, _I'm sorry._

Virgil spent a short moment observing the sight under him. He could see fields, trees, homes, farms, and more. He saw a herd of cows and horses with riders on their backs. He saw streams and saw small boats running down the currents. He saw huge, huge trees that were so high up that Virgil could see part of its bark under the canopy of leaves.

Virgil watched as the birds near them flitted by. Virgil watched as the clouds separated and let them pass. He could see Fírnen's tail acting like a rudder, helping the dragon steer and gain balance. Arya wasn't as curious as he was. She only sat motionless in her saddle, although she did look left and right for a moment.

_Virgil?_

_Yes, Ren? _

_Do you... think that we will find Röex? _

_The elves are searching. It would be nearly impossible to escape them for long, even though 'long' can refer to centuries to an elf. _

_I guess. And what of his dragon? I don't want to see it tortured when it is caught. We don't even know its gender. _

_Let us hope not. Let's hope this dragon-taker sees sense and surrenders to Arya and Fírnen. He's huge, after all, and a small elf wouldn't have the energy to enlarge a dragon to half his size. _

_True, Virgil, but I'm still worried. And what about Alanna and Evarín? _

_What about them? _

_I don't know. I just thought about them. _

_Oh, okay. Maybe you're thinking to far. We're nowhere near Ellesméra at the moment, after all. _

_Hmm..._

The flight was long and Virgil soon lost track of time; he only paid attention to little. They took so long in the flight that Virgil actually amused himself by imagining the bloody rose. In his mind's eye he could see the dragon egg that Röex took. He could think of the many candles. He could think of the Nïdwhal. He could think of so many... and yet so little time passed.

_We are almost at the border of Du Weldenvarden. You may rest now, Rider, Dragon, and we will rouse you in the morning. _Fírnen said suddenly.

Surprised, Virgil slid down Ren's scaly left side and took off the saddle. He saw Arya unfold the membrane if a tent. "You can sleep here if you like. My night vision's stronger than yours, so you might want to rest before tomorrow."

Virgil let out his thanks and crawled into the small tent. He found it empty of pillows and other comforts, but he didn't mind. He gazed at the tent's internal features. The tent had beige cloth and wasn't as rickety as the tent he was in during one of his dreams, when the rose was bloody and in a jar. Virgil observed the tent further. It had no holes in it, and was very clean. The tent was a lighter shade at the top and darker near the bottom. Then Virgil drew his gaze to the tent door flaps. They were unmoving and were the same color as the rest of the tent. Nothing remarkable. Then the flaps shook and something pushed its way in.

Virgil gasped.

A small, brown ship four inches long made its way into the tent. It had one mast, small portholes, and it _flew _towards Virgil. He watched the ship's every move. Once it was close enough, Virgil realized that it was made out of _grass. _Dry, browned grass, but still grass nevertheless. The weaving was so intricate, Virgil realized that only magic could have formed it. Or perhaps it was woven by an elf, or a human with such great care. Virgil would have gone mad halfway through the process of weaving if he were to make it. The ship had a dragon head for a prow, and had small benches for rowers. The ship also had small railings. It stopped and hovered an inch away from Virgil's face. He watched the ship. It flew in a circle, and began to chase an invisible creature. It rocked from side to side sometimes, as if it were in waves, other times sailing smoothly. The ship was a wonder, Virgil knew. He let out his hand, palm up. The ship turned slowly, like it would on the open ocean, and carefully made its way to his hand as if it were the shore. It landed gracefully on his hand, stopping dead. This way, Virgil could explore the ship further. The blades of grass were thin, so the ship could be made of hundreds of stalks. The ship was _beautiful. _It rose upwards, stopping when it faced a small moth. It turned away from the winged animal and made its way out of the tent. Virgil felt stiff, and suddenly realized that he had been in the tent half-awake while watching the ship. He didn't feel tired, however, and followed to ship to see a brighter sky. The ship made its way to Arya, and stopped a foot behind her back. The elf was just talking to Fírnen. The great green beast stiffened, said something to Arya and causing his Rider to turn around. Ren was just behind them. Arya saw the ship, and a thousand expressions showed in her bright eyes. There was recognition, surprise, disbelief, helplessness, nostalgia, sadness, heartache, pain, happiness, love. She let out a trembling hand in the same manner Virgil had. Then she murmured a spell, causing the ship's brownish color to lighten into a bright green.

"Arya Dröttning." She did not reply to Virgil's greeting. She only sat and stared at the small ship. "Do... do you know what it is?" he asked.

"The ship I made after I found Eragon after we escaped soldiers near Eastcroft," she whispered. "It draws energy from the plants around it and is on an eternal journey. Ever since I let it go, I forgot about it... that was a mistake." She mouthed more words in the ancient language. The ship flew upwards and was soon out of sight. A stray tear ran down Virgil's paled cheek. He wiped it away and shook his head. "What... what was the spell for? What was that word you said?"

"Flauga, fly. Eitha, leave. Gangá, go." Her voice was painfully quiet. "The ship will find us again in Ellesméra. That ship has something that I treasure."

It struck Virgil that Arya must have loved Eragon to have done so much for a toy ship. He thought of the pain she would have had to face. Eragon was to leave Alagaësia forever, while Arya's fate was to become queen... neither would give up their roles, which were both more important than being together... the pain would have been unbearable for Virgil.

Arya sighed and stood up. Fírnen stirred and lifted his massive eyelid. Ren was still asleep, unaware of what had occurred. Arya began to saddle her dragon up, black hair hiding whatever expression she bore beneath. Virgil, however, was having a difficult time waking his dragon up. "Ren! Ren, wake up, you stenr eyreya!" Arya's sadness was briefly lightened as she smiled at Virgil's predicament. "Stone ears, eh?" Virgil flashed a grin back before facing Ren, asleep like a drunkard. "Ren, in the name of Galbatorix, _wake up! _You hear me? _Vakna, Skulblaka!"_

Ren jolted to wariness. He spun around, expecting to see an enemy, then beginning to chase his tail. Then he lifted his head and reared up, tongue flicking in and out. He brought his forefeet down with a loud _boom, _shaking the floor of the forest. The sound echoed four times before the clearing was quiet again. Virgil smiled.

_You didn't have to do that. _Ren was obviously annoyed.

_I did. _Now Virgil spoke with an edge to his mental voice. _You were sleeping like a baby, with your face looking like this. _He tilted his head, closed his eyes and stuck his tongue out to mock his dragon. _I tried to yell at you, stone ears, but you were as still as the earth itself._

_You've probably done that more than I ever will, _Ren defended himself.

_But I'm older than you. If I were to count the number of times I slept like that, then I would have to divide it by... _He counted with his mind, then said a while later, _nine and thirty. Then that would be equal to your age, four months. _

Ren let out a mental groan. _You don't have to show off._

_I'm not showing off. And I'm not going to pursue this conversation any further, so get up on your feet._

_Very well, O Mighty Shur'tugal. I shall follow you everywhere as your loyal servant and do everything you ask me to do, as well as catch you a deer every day. _Now it was Ren who teased Virgil.

_Bah. _

Lifting the saddle, Virgil got it on Ren's back and completed the task within the hour, including folding Arya's tent and giving it to her, gathering the few supplies he had taken out, and checking the grey dragon egg.

Then Fírnen took off, followed closely by Ren, like an eagle constantly shadowed by a small crow. A white crow at that. Virgil beheld the world from above again, where he could see Du Weldenvarden, the place he had always wanted to see, as they flew. Skyward.

**Note: I love that ship 3 I just thought I would put it in the story, although Arya never really said that she made a spell to stop the grass from withering. It made my heart break, seeing as the ship has painful memories T-T**

**We will see what happens to Röex and his dragon. Should the orange creature be male or female? I think the rose would be the dragon Röex took. That is, if it's female. **

**Should we see Blödhgarm again? The wolf-elf, as Saphira called him with, has a place in my heart, like the ship does. Virgil doesn't know what **_**garm **_**means? Yay, then the Rider isn't perfect!**

**Virgil regrets the fact that Glaedr is dead... little does he know that the dragon lives on. Well, sort of. **

**Nooo don't be an idiot Ren! Act like the awesome dragon you are! I beg you! Please my Ren! Wake up when it's time! Get an alarm clock! Bring Cadoc with you and make him put a paw in your nose when you have to wake up! Anything! -Ehem- you know he can't be perfect. **

**I'm done with updating, but this story would never be truly perfect, as you know. Either way, please review! I will give you a chocolate chip cookie! (::) - cookie.**


	9. Chapter 9: Flare

_Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. _Îstalrren's wings flapped as he made his way towards Ellesméra. He kept his eyes on Fírnen's tail, following the movements the green dragon made. Fírnen was graceful with his maneuvers, rising steadily and diving with an elegance that would take Ren years to match. Ren tried to follow, but it wasn't easy to when he was so small.

Through his blue-and-purple eyes Ren saw the elf-queen-Arya in her saddle. She was speaking to green-dragon-Fírnen, but she also projected her thoughts to Ren. He could hear her say,

_...that we will be there soon. Tell Virgil. _

Ren did so. Virgil-partner-of-heart-and-mind was still drifting in his thoughts. Ren could feel him picturing what traitor-egg-taker-Röex's dragon would look like. He could feel Virgil's thoughts: _...poor dragon would come back fierce and loyal to his or her Rider. _

_Virgil?_

Ren's Rider-and-partner-forever's thoughts jolted. _Yes, Ren? _

_Why are you so worried about Röex? Three words from Arya and he's to surrender. _However, Ren himself was not so sure that just the magic-ancient-language could bring a Rider to his knees.

_You know that might not be true, Ren. _

_And it might as well be true all the same. By the way, Arya said we were almost there. _

_Already? So soon? How long have we been up here? Blast it!_

_Long enough. You've been drowning in a sea of thoughts ever since we took off. _

_Then we should land, I've had enough if this cold head-spinner. _

_What? I thought you liked flying. Now we're above Du Weldenvarden, a few flights away from Ellesméra, and you want to be down on solid ground by now?_

_Yes. _

That was a tone that Ren knew he couldn't argue with, so he continued to watch the star-that-is-the-sun setting in front of him and the and the clouds-that-will-not-rain pass him, touching his scales and leaving silver droplets of water on his hide.

The flight had left Ren a little tired, but he would not let a small breeze like this let him down. He flapped and flapped, lifting himself a little higher where the wind was stronger behind him, letting him glide with ease. Then he let himself hang vertically above the land and spun. He was a white blur stretching from up to down before he leveled himself and took on a steep dive. Elf-queen-Arya and green-dragon-Fírnen had done the same and were dropping down at breakneck speed beside Ren. Virgil's sick thoughts vanished as Ren gained altitude. The dragon remained steady, his forefeet tucked on either side, his hind legs in a similar situation, tail streaming like smoke from a fire, wings flat against his back. His Rider was flat on the leather-back-saddle too. Then Ren snapped his wings open and they came to a complete stop before slowly rising up to a good height above the trees.

Then green-dragon-Fírnen overtook them. With the vast-forest-Du-Weldenvarden beneath them, they glided on wings of grace and landed a few miles away. A muffled _thump _reverberated the air as their massive shapes landed. Then both Riders-of-dragons slid of the leather-back-saddles and took the straps off.

Virgil-partner-of-heart-and-mind patted Ren as if he were a horse, with his brown eyes flashing with mock praise. _Good boy, _Virgil cooed.

_There's the exaggeration. _

_Yep, I know all too well. _Virgil let out a mental laugh.

_Really now?_

_Yes._

To that, Ren had no reply.

Ren watched silently as his Rider took something from his pack. It was a small piece of bread. The Rider ate it slowly, his thoughts obviously not on the scrap of food. The star-that-is-the-sun had disappeared under the line-of-the-horizon.

Virgil slept in a house-of-skin-walls, or 'tents' as the two-legs referred to as. Ren and Fírnen, on the other hand, lay down on a grassy stretch of land. The grass tickled Ren's belly. He rolled to a more comfortable position.

Then he looked up to the sky.

He looked and saw everything. It was difficult to comprehend the great galaxy in front of his eyes. It was vast like the forests and deep like an ocean. The color of the sky was that of an ice blue and dark purple, light colors on one side and darkening to the other on the opposite side. They were like the color of Ren's eyes, as he knew from Virgil's memory and from whenever he gazed into a pool.

The stars. They were, when connected by an invisible tendril, entangled like vines around the buildings of an ancient and forgotten city. They were flickering their milky lights, turned off and on by an invisible hand covering their flame. It was impossible to imagine what they were up close. Ren had tried calling to the stars in his musical mental voice. It had been a futile-yet-wondrous-attempt, for the stars-that-shine dimmed and shone as if they heard him. They were, to Ren, _enchanted. _They were not enchanted by spells-of-magic-ancient-language or by the-magic-dragons-create. No, they were unfathomable.

The dragon-egg-of-the-skies: the moon. Ren remembered a distant and hazy memory from within his egg, of a great white dragon who once watched over him in the place where Eragon-Virgil's-uncle-Rider and queen-of-the-skies-Saphira had found his egg. The white dragon that put the wild-dragon-eggs to sleep so that they would not hatch. The white dragon who guarded his safe haven. The white dragon that Ren did not know where his soul existed in. _That _was what the moon reminded Ren of. If a huge white dragon were to fly as high as possible and curled up in the sky, the moon would be what everyone saw. The moon looked a bit like a dragon egg, but a lot more round and bumpy. When Ren was young and only understood language and could not speak yet, Virgil had told him of the moon. Once he knew how to fly, Ren had tried many times to fly to touch the moon. He had tried when it was clear and far above him he had tried when it touched the line-of-the-horizon. But he never reached it.

He did not know why, but he called it by many names: dragon-egg-of-the-skies, star-that-is-the-moon, ruler-of-the-night, guardian-of-darkness, and many more. He did not call it a star very much though, as it lacked the swirling vortex of light that the sun could give out.

The clouds. Sometimes Ren called them the misty-flyer-of-water, as when he flew near them they were like water. The clouds were different from the sun, stars and moon; they were of his reach, and they moved whenever the wind blew them. They were only a couple miles up; Ren would probably never know how much flight experience would take him to the moon. The clouds were strange. They seemed to be insubstantial and yet they could hold droughts of water. But Ren knew that the misty-flyer _was _water. Ren had a quizzical nature, and he loved to find an answer by flying. He never told Virgil though. The knowledge would have to wait until another time to be told of.

Ren wondered what other mysteries were held in the claws of the skies. He would solve all of then as Lord of The Sky.

One made its way into his mind: what sort of two-legged idiot named the place-of-peace-above-the-world with only _three _letters? Round-eared, pointy-eared, short or horned didn't matter. Yes, Ren wondered about it because he was like Virgil in many ways. He shared his Rider's knowledge on words, and having only three short letters to describe the void was almost unacceptable. But then, _sky _was a rather amazing word, narrow but deep in meaning. It frustrated Ren though. He wanted to tear the world apart with his claws to get back at the mindless writer who had such a shallow judgement. However, he could only call it a sky, so that was that.

Then another question directed Ren's mind into thinking: why, oh why, was the sky blue? Or at lest it was blue most of the time. Once or twice Ren had seen it as a bright citrus sheet of scroll-paper rolled out and laid across the world far above. Another time, it was red. He saw it grey once, but realized that it was the misty-flyer-of-water ― clouds ― that blotted out the normal hue of the sky.

And yet another pushed aside the second thought: why we're the stars so far away. They were stars, yes, and yet no one knew what they truly were. Once, Ren took them as fireballs, but even fireballs would turn of their lights eventually. And why were there so many? How did they form themselves? They weren't moving much. Ren knew that, at least for a clump if stars, as he had connected them to look like the shape of a dragon. It was an imperfect dragon shape, but if Ren were told to fly to a certain space and other dragons to form a star shape in the sky, it wouldn't be easy either.

Ending the subject with mental sigh, Ren settled his long neck coiled around his body and made sure that the end of his tail was touching his snout before he fell asleep near the green-dragon-Fírnen. He thought about his Rider and elf-queen-Arya. They slept in separate 'tents' ― Ren still had difficulty using the word ― and were still asleep, as he could not touch minds.

Ren sighed and slept the night off while dozing.

The next morning, Ren was annoyed as this time Virgil had to use _vakna _to wake him up, along with a few insults in the two-leg ― _human _― tongue. He had to go through a great deal of scolding.

_I'll bet you Saphira never had Eragon wake her with magic means. _

_So? I'm not Saphira. _

_And you don't idolize her?_

Ren had to find an answer in quite a while; it had taken him a moment to find his mental tongue. _Saphira is a she. _

_So? Even if Saphira was a female, a male dragon wouldn't have done much more in her steps. _

Frustrated, Ren lifted his top and bottom lip to show teeth. A puff of smoke lifted from his enormous nostrils. There wasn't much left to say in words.

_And Brom's Saphira gave you her saddle, albeit in a n indirect way. _Virgil pressed on. _Would it make much difference for a dragon to have different genders? Males don't even grow any faster than females. As a she, Saphira took a great risk in saving Alagaësia, and you know what Arya did was amazing too. Besides, you're changing the subject. I told you that I didn't want you to sleep in much longer. Röex could be changing the size of his dragon by now, getting an army and preparing them to battle us so that he can be an elven Galbatorix. If you ever..._

Ren faced Virgil's insults and lectures with silence. He told him how he probably had a cave bear for a mother and that he could sleep through battle with his tail bit off. He told him how he could fall asleep while flying and bring them to a memorable yet unremarkable death.

_...and that's why I don't want to talk about it further. _

Ren sulked. Elf-queen-Arya and green-dragon-Fírnen let them have a small warm-up flight before they went on with their journey. She was doing something that Ren had no idea of, going to a small rain-water-filled-pool and saying words that _seemed _to be of the magic-ancient-language, but we're alien to him. He did not ask Virgil, though, for Ren was still simmering from the earlier words that Virgil had told him.

Ren flew with the leather-back-saddle and took off only a fraction of a second after Virgil said he was ready. Then he flew like before, vertically, but this time he flew in a reckless and hurried manner. Virgil screamed mentally, ramming at Ren's walls of fury but the dragon would not let his flare go out. He flapped so fast that he hit an eagle-hunter-bird with his tail, stunning the animal but not killing it. Ren then dropped, limply and lifeless-like. Now he was with his back down, Virgil below him and clinging in his saddle with the dragon-Rider-two-leg's life on the line. He feared little of Virgil getting hurt, for Arya had placed wards around them. Not that he worried about it to much though.

Virgil yelled and yelled, clawing desperately at Ren's thoughts. Ren did not pay much attention and let himself drop until he was a few feet above the treetops of the elf-forest. Then he rolled thrice, executing a backward loop and then relating a jet of flame. The fire stayed in the air motionless until Ren reached dot. He veer to the right at the last moment, saving Virgil from getting singed. Then he wavered unexpectedly, and so Virgil could break through. Ren immediately posted new defenses, but he was too late and Virgil said to him, _Okay, okay, stop! I'm sorry for before, I won't do it again, not unless it's completely necessary! Okay? Please? _Then Ren felt his Rider take a deep breath, summoning his strength and yelled, "Letta!" until his lungs dried out.

Ren stopped without meaning to, caught by the magic-ancient-language. _Very well. But before I let you down you will give me your word that you will no longer lecture me in such a childish manner. _

_Childish, yes? No matter. I give you my word._

They returned home, happy to be a true pair again.

**Note: Writing in Ren's point of view isn't easy. I liked writing about Umaroth, however, when Ren was thinking of the moon. Note that Ren doesn't know much about the Eldunarí yet. He knows of its existence, yes, but not what it's for. **

**Hope you'll live through Ren's fury about the name of the sky. **

**I love writing about the moon, it was such a sweet little scene. Should I write about Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights? It would be an amazing scene, having Ren fly among those great yet vague columns...**


	10. Chapter 10: Glare

_"To fly through the skies of wonder_

_To glide through the void of thunder_

_Once there was a dragon born_

_Under the shade of a tree forlorn_

_Over the hills, over the years, _

_Darkness rose, creating fea__rs _

_One would never be so kind _

_To always look and somehow find_

_The line that bonds the whole of us_

_The line that separates the whole us_

_We are only mere people_

_We are only mere creatures_

_But if we bond together _

_We will be strong forever_

_So thought Eragon, Rider of Riders_

_An elf of light, an elf of intelligence _

_He took a risk, bold and unheard_

_To dive into a brand new world_

_He stared into the deep vortex _

_The dragon's eyes so complex_

_With a battle against time_

_To save the elves from unforgettable crime _

_And so the Riders were formed _

_And a top Eragon's head a crown adorned_

_Forever destined to rule with us,_

_The dragons lived, as it was a must_

_To fly through the skies of wonder,_

_To glide through the void of thunder."_

Virgil finished his poem with a smile, earning a praise from Arya. He had spent long moments memorizing the text and writing it had taken long enough. Arya had given him information on what the first Eragon looked like, so that Virgil's poem became complete with a drawing of the first Rider holding his dragon in his arms. The dragon resembled Ren, Arya had said, but there were a few differences too.

Their flight to Ellesméra was delayed by a storm and strong winds, as well as lightning that lit up the trees once in a while, extinguished by the rain moments afterwards. So Virgil and arta remained in one tent while waiting. That was when Arya said she'd found a weakness in Röex's scrying wards. She had said, "I will scry him later."

And so he waited. Once, he said he would show her his rose picture, and tell her about the dream. He took out his scroll from the saddlebag outside the tent, in the shelter of Fírnen and Ren's wings. He took it out and went back to the tent to find Arya scrying Röex. Because Arya had been the one to say the spell, the spell could show Virgil what he never saw before. She could also show the dragon, as she had once seen the egg. The scrying spell included hearing, and they heard Röex chanting spells. The spells were spells of growth. As the dragon ― Virgil could not tell if it were male or female ― got bigger, so did Virgil's apprehension.

Arya and Virgil watched the bowl filled with rainwater as its surface showed them the dragon's size. It was half as tall Ren's shoulder at first, now growing a foot taller. Now it was about three fourths of Ren's height, but less muscular. Then Röex said, "Good girl, Lovissa. No, I think I should call you Rakr. Rakrhelgr." The dragon, apparently a she-dragon, hummed. Her eyes were red, even more red than Thorn's eyes in Virgil's paintings. They had catlike pupils and their eyelids were a flushed orange.

Arya ended the spell. What spell it was, and how she used it, he did not know. But Virgil knew better and simply asked, "What does _helgr _mean? I've seen the word, in _Dagshelgr, _but I forgot what it meant. Rakr is mist, I know, as I asked Ren whether he would like it as a name or not."

"_Helgr _is hallowed. So Rakrhelgr is hallowed mist. I wouldn't approve the name for an orange dragon, but Röex chose it, and I would not spend time thinking of a better name for out potential enemy." She rubbed her forehead. Then the younger Rider asked again. This time he lost control and said, "What was Röex's weakness? How did you scry him, when the words _dream stare _alone couldn't work?"

"The spell was complex and not told to inexperienced Riders. Not even all elves know of it. You must promise not to ask again, for it is a dangerous spell and could bring you to your death." Arya said the words and ended in a clear dismissal of the subject.

He understood. Virgil once heard tales of a magician that killed himself using a spell that was too difficult for him, such as bringing the dead back to life.

Ren and Fírnen were dripping wet when they came out. The rain had ceased dropping its cold load of water. The sun was still dim, as clouds still covered the sky.

Virgil chuckled as Ren had once complained to him about the name of the sky. He agreed, though he found it more amusing than worth launching fury everywhere.

Then Ren got up and stretched like a cat. The dragon ran his tongue over his lips and began to walk over to him. Virgil was about to hug his dragon before saying,

_Goodness, you're dripping wet with rainwater._

_That I know. _

_Let me dry you._

And so he thought up a spell to turn the water covering Ren into steam without harming the dragon. An inexperienced magician would have simply said 'heat the water' which would have hurt the dragon's scales. So he said instead, 'turn the water on my dragon's scales into steam, but do not do any harm to the dragon!' and watched as the ancient language did its work. The water vanished instantly from Ren's hide, making him even more sparkly.

_Thank you._

Virgil did not reply and simply smiled. _You look funny when wet. I say we go for a swim someday. _

_Swimming? No, not now, but we should when we can._

_Perhaps I could cast a spell to keep a pocket of air around us so I can breathe underwater. In a way, I mean. _

_That's a good idea. That way you can see better too._

_Perhaps so._

They took flight again. Through the skies they flew, and this time Virgil chanted as he flew. He chanted,

"_Once there was a wolf, a wolf who had one eye_

_Howling at the moon, for the moon would never lie_

_The wolf with one eye , glared at a star_

_And howled, 'How could you have done this, show me who you are!'_

_For in a season he lost many things _

_His mate flew away on silver wings_

_His cubs had died, knocked out cold_

_Under the paws of a wolf of gold_

_The golden wolf, with an evil gaze_

_Glaring at the one-eyed silver, setting him ablaze _

_The silver said, 'Wolf, you coward, let us fight, _

_I will bring you down with all my might!'_

_He kicked and growled, the golden too strong, _

_The power in the silver's flame not enough to hold for long_

_The golden had killed, his cubs all dead_

_Because of this terror, the silver fled_

_He ran to the rivers, he ran to the trees_

_Rejecting horror and wanting peace _

_He knew that one day, the golden would fall_

_For he had brought harm to all_

_And so one day, when the silver was braver_

_Stronger and smarter, more that ever_

_He challenged the golden to a terrific fight, _

_Lit up by the forest's firelight_

_The silver fought for all he needed done, _

_The golden only doing it for none_

_One on one, the epic battle_

_Ended with victory for the wolf of metal_

_The silver looked at his enemy_

_Revenge now dead in a catastrophe _

_If only the golden never hurt his heart_

_He would never need to murder from the start_

_But he had avenged his sons and daughters_

_With nothing more than the great slaughter _

_The beast was dead, and all cheered_

_For to the fold, many had feared_

_His mate from above, his cubs too,_

_They were happy with what the silver could do."_

The poem was about a famous fable of Carvahall, about the story of a one-eyed wolf.

The wolf was named Shino, who had silver fur that shine in the moonlight. He had left his pack in search for the perfect mate. He was an average wolf, without the best fighting skills, but not the worse either. He was good at hunting, and brought down several small mammals for meals when he was alone.

Soon he found a she-wolf named Rakri, who was white. She had very long fur in the winter and, even after she shredded her fur, she looked beautiful, like an angel herself. And she took a liking to Shino and mated him, and for a long while they were happy.

They had many wolf pups. In those moments, everything was perfect. Their pack was feared and they had wide territory. They became a happy little family.

But one day, a ferocious lone wolf named Aro slew Kawa, Shino's oldest and most loved son. In thus, Shin almost went mad at the loss. He only lived through it because of Rakri's soothing. The other wolf pups, Hiro and Ava, we're distraught.

The lone wolf only left traces of scent, claw marks, and golden fur. Soon they learned that the wolf was named Aro and that he lived without a family.

Their next encounter with Aro was just as unpleasant, if not more. Aro killed Ava and scarred Shino's left eye. Half-blind, Shino returned to his den with his only female pup in his jaws, dead. He mourned both wolves, not caring that he had become a cripple himself.

That night, Shino had a dream that he saw Rakri, a pair of silver wings sprouting from her back. She said to Shino, "Do not worry, my love, we will see each other again. Remember that, and all will be well." And so, Rakri flew to the skies, fading away from Shino's tearful right eye.

Shino met Aro again, and the golden wolf attacked his den. This time the golden wolf was successful in killing both Ava and Rakri. Ava had been thrown into a stone wall easily, the impact shaking her enough for Aro to finish her with a blow to the skull.

Rakri, however, put up a fight. She had said, "Why are you doing this? You had no right to kill out pups!" and Aro had said, "I do this for my sister, for she was murdered by a ruthless wolf."

And then he ended Rakri's life by clawing at her chest.

Her last words rang in Shino's ears. _Shino... do not worry, my love, we will see each other again. Remember that, and all will be well. I...love...you._

The despair of losing four family members within a few months was too much for him, and so Shino ran away from home. The wolf lived alone once more, and that was the night he howled at the moon and the stars. That was when he howled for who was responsible for his pain to show itself. He had not been answered, however. He lived on, training to fight with a limited visibility. He became a combat wolf, and the time came for him to challenge Aro.

He returned with his fur reflecting the moonlight. He called loudly, "Aro! Show yourself, Aro, you murderer, and we will see if revenge is really worth it! You have had your vengeance on your sister, now I will have mine, or you will have yours more satisfying. Let us fight, Aro, and see who is the stronger!"

Aro had showed up with wolf blood splattering his fur. He leaped at Shino, but the silver wolf had better reflexes and rolled away. They fought as furiously as if they used swords. They used their claws as daggers, their teeth as spears.

With his leg badly injured, Shino leapt one last time onto Aro and finished the battle with a bite to the neck. And so, he had his revenge. His fur flashed like metal and he growled into Aro's ear as the wolf was dying, and he said, "I have avenged by family. Now you can join your sister, but you join her a killer yourself. You have created more pain than the wolf that killed her, and so all of wolfkind fear you. Now you will die, remembered as a black-hearted wolf."

Shino lived on as a feared lone wolf. But with his eye and hurt leg, he decided that it was time he joined his family. He passed away out of old age, and was remembered by his birth pack as the bravest wolf of all, braver than even a dragon.

Virgil remembered one night, when he was five and Ismira six, Roran had told them the story. He said that what Aro was wrong to kill for his dead sister, unless whoever he killed had been responsible for the crime itself. Ever since then, Shino had been a hero to Virgil. He smiled.

Then Arya warned, "Look, we are almost there. I shall inform all of the elves of our arrival. They will wait for us in Tialdarí Hall, even Alanna and Evarín."

They circled a small clearing. There were two elves there, along with four horses. Each elf rode one horse and led another. As they landed, Virgil and Arya exchanged greetings to the elves, who had dismounted from their graceful steeds. Even Ren complied to do the same ritual. Then Arya introduced the two elves to Virgil and Ren. "Virgil, this is Lifaen and Narí. They will escort us to Tialdarí Hall."

Ren spoke to Virgil. _Are you ready, partner?_

_I am. _

**Note: Wolves! I know it took up most of the story, sorry guys. I just felt like I needed to do this tribute. A tribute for Detective Conan's ShinRan pairing, Shino as Shinichi, Rakri as Ran, Ava as Ayumi, Hiro as Mitsuhiko, Kawa as Conan Edogawa, and Aro as Tooru Amuro. Sorry again guys ^^**

**In response to Brisingr and a guest, I will write in either Eragon or Saphira's POV in the next chapter. I might bring Murtagh back in the story too, as the Riders need all the extra help they can get.**

**Also, to my other review on eggs being bonded, I'm sorry but I don't understand what you mean. **


	11. Chapter 11: Breaker

Eragon rubbed his forehead, worrying about Röex and his dragon. He had scryed Arya and found out about the growth acceleration. It was disastrous. Terrible, and it was like the rise of Galbatorix himself. But this was a time with very little Riders available. Galbatorix had to kill many of them and still be strong. What about Röex? Besides, they were dealing with an elf. They didn't even know why Röex was doing all this. Eragon resolved to ask Arya with his mirror.

_Little one, what is it that clouds your mind so closely? Is it the dragon's life in jeopardy? Is it the fact that an elf would steal the egg? You know you can tell me, little one, for I am willing to listen to you forever. _Saphira's voice emanated from within Eragon's head.

_I'm not worried, Saphira. _He was a Dragon Rider leader, and he had more matters to tend to than just an elf. The city he was in now, Dras Ororaudhr, or the Red arrow city, was a small one compared to the Shur'tugalars largest and most populated area, Du Solusramr, The Strong Sun.

It had been called so because of how the sun shines so brightly over the city that the roads of the city had to be sheltered by stained glass, as a direct look at the light could blind a man for many long hours. And Dras Ororaudhr was called so because the city had been exactly what it was called, a red arrow pointing towards a perfect place for dragons. It was the only land that Eragon could find in many days of voyage. To the west of Red-arrow city was just a sea. And to the east of the city was Du Solusramr itself. But now Eragon paid attention to Saphira's words.

_Is that so, little one? Say that in the ancient language. _

_Eka ― _Eragon could not continue. Saphira only snorted. Eragon gave in. _Alright, I am worried. How could Röex steal the egg, and why would the egg want to follow him?_

_Maybe the egg was forced to hatch by magic. _Saphira answered with a positive tone.

_Maybe, or the dragon willingly followed Röex. I still don't get why Röex named the dragon Rakrhelgr. _Eragon disapproved the name for an orange dragon, as did Arya and Saphira.

_I still don't get why you named me Saphira._

_That's because you rejected every single name I gave you, except for Saphira. You didn't even want to be called Lenora! _Eragon remembered the time he named Saphira, as he though she was a male and tried to name her Vanilor._ It was a good name, you know. _

_Why did your mother name you Eragon? _Now Saphira was teasing him.

_Why did Virgil name his dragon 'oath?' _Eragon retorted.

_Well, you should admit that 'oath of fire' is a good choice. _

Eragon grunted. He looked around. Dras Ororaudhr was underpopulated. Only a few dragons, all unbonded, lived there. The largest one was two thirds of Saphira's size, named Eridor, after a dragon Brom mentioned in Carvahall. The dragon was yellow and was very respectful of Eragon. Because wild dragons were not to speak in words, Eridor gave him a greeting by emotion. Eragon answered in a similar way. Then he met Blödhgarm. The elf was still clothed in his blue-black fur, even though he had once claimed that his fur wild one day be lost, replaced by skin, scales or fins, not even the elf knew.

"Kingkiller." Blödhgarm had shown his respect ever since they met, but now they were more like friends. The wolf-elf smiled, teeth glinting.

"Blödhgarm. Have you heard of Röex and his dragon lately?" The elf nodded. "Rakrhelgr, right? I still wonder how it all happened."

"Maybe you should go to Alagaësia," Eragon suggested. But the elf turned him down, saying that he would rather be with the dragons, for he was still fascinated by their great beauty and nobility.

Eragon's two students, Shûrn and Ulreq, were currently in Du Solusramr. They were getting a half-dozen hatchlings oriented, as they were but a few weeks old. Their dragons were in the great dragonhold of the city, where Láukan was with her mate Neø, though no one knew what it was that they were up to. Threkkan was with his mate Arunîa, guarding their one egg until the time came for Eragon to send it over to Alagaësia.

Eragon had spent long nights mapping their new territory, intending to call it Thelduin, or to rule. Even so, the place had not yet been named, as they were waiting for more Riders to help build their safe refuge.

Eragon sighed and touched a scale on Saphira's neck. It felt hard and rough beneath his fingers. She turned and touched him with the tip of her snout. Eragon smiled.

But his smile soon faltered as he remembered his departure from Alagaësia. The scene kept playing in his head no matter what. He remembered the cry that Roran let out. He remembered His forster brother, Orik, pleading for him to stay another day. He remembered the sound of the water slapping against the boat. He remembered the dark he stood in.

He remembered Arya.

The touch of her hand, the sound of her voice... the way she spoke, the look in her eyes...

And he had left her.

It was possibly unavoidable, but it still hurt. He had fallen for her ever since Gil'ead. Once, even, she had rescued him from the Twins. She had helped him slay Durza. She was who carried Saphira's egg for five-and-twenty years. She had taken him to Ellesméra.

And he had left her.

She had trusted him enough to reveal Oromis and Glaedr's existence as the last of the elven Riders. She had helped him through his agony at Murtagh being an enemy Rider. She had comforted him when he learned from his brother that Morzan was his father.

She helped him save Alagaësia. She had let him go to Vroengard and find the eggs. She had helped sharpen his skills. And she respected him as the son of an Elf Friend.

She told him her true name, and he had left her.

Eragon wiped a stay tear that ran down his cheek. In his left hand he stared at the small drop. He murmured a spell. The tear turned into a cloud of steam, almost unseen and soon faded away.

_Little one, do not worry about her. Your grief is mine. I miss him, even as you miss her. _Saphira did not utter Fírnen's name, Eragon realized. He climbed up the saddle that was on Saphira's back and hugged her, careful not to embrace her too tightly. _I know. I'm sorry for dwelling on things I shouldn't. _Saphira took flight, and to Eragon her ascend was unusually slow and smooth, subdued by their sadness.

After checking on the dragons of Dras Ororaudhr, Saphira and Eragon went over to Du Solusramr. The city was further east from Alagaësia. That was why he made it the area's biggest city. He didn't want wild dragons roaming here and there in Alagaësia.

They arrived at a forest that bordered Du Solusramr. The Strong-sun city had the colored glass arching high over each road and open space, unless the place had either trees or a place for dragon's to take off. The heat didn't harm dragons. It only harmed the eyes of humans, dwarves, Urgals and elves, though elves could shield themselves from the inferno easily, using wards.

Eragon entered through a gate. At that very moment he squinted. The glass above was dark, and yet he could get blinded whenever he entered or exited. That was the reason to cast extra safety spells there.

He entered, noticing dragons _everywhere. _Some were coming out of the city, ready to hint for their mates and families. Some were simply basking in the sun. Some were walking around the streets, which were as wide as the ones on Vroengard. Eragon noticed Threkkan. There was a large buck in his jaws. _Atra esterní ono thelduin, Ebrithilar. _The dragon had a fairly deep mental voice. "Off to see Arunîa, Threkkan?" The dragon gave a mental blush and hurried awat, but Saphira managed to ask him, _Where is Ulreq? _Threkkan said that the Urgal was already at the dragonhold.

With that, Eragon went towards the dragonhold. He noticed a dragon he named Rakri, after the fabled wolf. She was silver, too, like the wings that took the wolf to the world above. Rakri was also a wild dragon. She had a mate that, Eragon first met and named Shino, ironically enough. The two dragon's hatched and became friends ever since they first met.

Now Rakri was getting ready to lay an egg. Shino's dark form was next to her, oily black scales shining like polished a polished obsidian stone.

Eragon watched as Rakri spun once. When she withdrew, there was a chrysanthemum egg. And _chrysanthemum _was the only word that could capture the beauty and joy the egg held. It was orange, almost gold, and half the size of the egg he sent to Ellesméra. Rakri then addressed Saphira in her rough way of speaking, which was with images and sensations. If those words were to be translated, she would have said, _Leader dragon, I give you this egg for a Rider. _Saphira told Eragon, and he cast a spell to bind the dragon to find a Rider when the time comes. Eragon smiled. Rakri really did love Shino. He remembered how he had temporarily brought down the rule that separated wild dragons from bonded dragons. He had to do it to help repopulate dragons, but now the rule was up again. Only Threkkan and Láukan had wild mates, as the dragon's did not fall for each other.

Saphira touched the egg, as well as Rakri's flanks with her snout. Then Eragon thanked the dragon, a smile on his face. He found his student, Ulreq, tending to Threkkan and Arunîa. The Urgal said, "Master. What is it that I can tend to? I've seen to Rakri before, but she never showed any signs that she would lay her egg today." She spoke with a rough accent, but still understandable. It was a daunting accomplishment that the dam could speak in three languages, if the ancient language were to be included.

"No, Ulreq, you can rest now. Where's Shûrn?"

She indicated with her right horn. "Forest. Láukan went hunting. He went with her." With that, she left to her den.

Eragon went back to his own house. It was identical to the one that Vrael used to live in. It had stairs sung bout nod the tree. Although Eragon had the strength of an elf now, he made the stairs low, so if anyone, be it elf, human, Urgal or dwarf, could go up without coming in panting.

He reached the top in two minutes, not too fast but not too slow. The tree had leaves growing everywhere. Eragon lay in his bed before reaching for a scrying mirror. He used the Name of All Names to scry, as well as the words _draumr kópa. _

Eragon gasped.

The dragon Rakrhelgr was now a foot taller, making her an equal to when Eragon last saw Ren. It was bad. Very bad. The dragon was bigger than a horse and very tall. It meant that Rakrhelgr could become a threat. He did not understand how the dragon grew so fast. Was it possible that Röex was drawing energy from his surroundings? It wasn't a thing told to young elves.

Then he saw Röex take something. It was in his hand now, and with a jolt, Eragon realized for the first time what he saw.

Eragon could see the trees behind Röex, but they were changed. It must be a landscape he once saw. It was the way to Dras Ororaudhr, as well as Du Solusramr. And the item he held was an Eldunarí. Eragon could see it, so he must have seen it before. It was small, however, so the dragon that disgorged it would be about a half-year old. Röex must have stolen it. But how did the elf know about it? Who was this elf? Eragon did not know.

However, Eragon resolved that he would bring this egg-breaker down to his knees. For this elf was a Ren eld jierda, an oath breaker.

**Note: Look at dem reviews! Thanks so much guys! And almost 900 views! I love you!**


	12. Chapter 12: Hvitr

Lifaen smiled. In the human language, he said, "Welcome, Virgil, Îstalrren." Then he turned to Arya and conversed in the ancient language. Virgil could only understand a few of the words they said, such as 'Skulblaka', 'vanyali', and 'älfa.'

Then Arya took out the saddlebag that contained the egg. She let a part of the bag slide down the smooth surface, showing a grey item that was the egg. Lifaen's face lit up, as did Narí's. They eyed the egg with interest and appreciation, as well as hope. Arya covered the egg while they continued to exchange pleasantries. Even Virgil let out a few words, though most of the time he hung back with his head down, feeling a bit unsure of himself. Ren, however, was eager to see what wonders Ellesméra held. He asked many questions to Lifaen and Narí. They answered with enthusiasm, complimenting the dragon sometimes, to which Ren answered with the usual arrogance he had begun to acquire ever since they left. _Ren... _Virgil rolled his eyes at the white dragon. Ren simply gave him the mental equivalent of a sheepish shrug.

Afterwards, Narí laid a hand on one of the horses, the one behind the grey stallion that the elf rode. The horse he touched was black. Tentatively, Virgil reached out with his mind to the mare. She acknowledged him, surprising Virgil with the complexity of her mind. She was far more intelligent than normal animals. "This," said Narí, "is Delois. She is one of our finest horses. Unlike humans, we instruct these steeds with the ancient language. You can give her commands such as gánga fram to go forward, gánga aptr to go backwards, hlaupa to run, and blöthr to stop. There are other ways to do this, if you have more knowledge of the ancient language."

"Why can't I ride Ren?" Virgil blurted out, forgetting who he was talking to. But Lifaen smiled and walked over. "You, as the new Rider, is to meet with Alanna and, together, discuss what you are to do in the future. Besides, Îstalrren's primary mentor is Fírnen, or at least for now. He will meet Evarín as well. You will not go any further than a few leagues from him, so you can still contact him." Virgil nodded, though he looked at the dull earth under his feet as he did do.

He mounted the horse. He liked the fact that she was named after a flower. "Gangá fram," he said. The horse began to walk at a smooth pace. Soon Virgil could guide the horse with his thoughts as well as with the ancient language. Lifaen rode a small bay, while Arya rode a magnificent white horse. The mare moved with ease, her hooves making very faint noises when she walked.

Virgil scratched Delois between the ears. The black-furred mare seemed to like it, so he kept at it. He wasn't that worried about falling, for there was little chance such a horse would let it happen.

Arya talked with the other elves. She let her horse move in front of the others, with Lifaen just behind her and Nari close by her side. Virgil still spent most of the trip silent and shy, which Narí eventually remarked as different from Îstalrren. Virgil realized that they always called the dragon with his full name, never Ren. He would have asked, but his self-consciousness made him refrain.

Virgil soon let Delois choose the path to take. He looked around. Everywhere he saw trees. Trees. Small trees, big trees, flowering trees, fruit trees, pine trees, and even a tree that grew into the shape of a house ― yes, a house ― with a door and windows. Even so, the tree seemed alive.

The paths were twisty and yet the trip was short to Virgil. He had been spending too much of his time gaming at every thing the forest beheld to his wide eyes. Elves often turned their heads towards him, greeting him with 'Argetlam,' 'Shur'tugal,' and even 'Kvetha Fricai.' The greeting surprised Virgil. They were beginning to recognize him as a friend and as a Rider already.

Arya departed from the group once they reached a place that Virgil guessed as Tialdarí Hall. Lifaen followed, so that Virgil was left with Narí to accompany him. The elf seemed faintly pleased to take Virgil to see what exhibits were hidden among the great forests, and of course in Ellesméra. Virgil had never expected to take the role of a Dragon Rider. Now here he was, gaping at the works of elves such as a house made of living trees, fields of the loivissa flower, and much more.

From somewhere above the trees, Ren was flying, following Fírnen towards the Crags of Tel'naeír, or that was what Ren called the place. Virgil remembered that it was the name of the crags where Glaedr and Fírnen lived. Glaedr had perished over Gil'ead, however. Virgil suspected that Evarín was there too.

Narí led him to a tree, where they dismounted. The tree was also fashioned to look like a house. Narí called put in the ancient language and soon another elf walked outside. Alanna.

She was... different from any other elf. She had silver hair that grew until halfway down her back. Most of it was straight, but a few strands curled up near her ears, which were as pointy as those of a normal elf's. She had bright blue eyes, was about as tall as he was, if not slightly shorter, and had pale skin. Virgil knew that, when compared to himself, she was a beautiful woman while he was a rugged boy.

And she held an air of happiness, surprise and gratitude, which somehow made Virgil smile. She pressed three of her fingers to her lips. She greeted Narí. Then she turned to him and said, "You are Virgil?" Her voice was sort of musical.

Virgil nodded without speaking. She held up her left hand, and the gedwëy ignasia flashed in the setting sun's light. And so Virgil lifted his right. Then he greeted her tentatively. Ever since Arya's arrival, he had grown to hate pleasantries. But he raised barriers around his mind, so that no one would know. Narí said, "Well, I've done my job. You two can talk now, I will be at the hall if you need me."

With that, he swung a leg over his horse and led Delois back the way he came. Virgil watched the elf go, before Alanna invited him inside.

"Is this your house?" He asked because the house was very interesting. A table rested in the middle of the room. A small line of stairs led up to a second floor. The house was hexagonal, like the other one he saw, but this one had three tiers and was very wide.

"Yes, sort of, my brother Dusan lives here too. He's probably at the top floor at the moment. He enjoys watching plants, studying them all he can." Alanna twirled some of her hair around one of her fingers. The light reflected off of the silver strand.

"Ah. And your dragon, Evarín, how is she?" Virgil wondered how Ren would react to the dragon. "She was very excited when I left her in the Crags of Tel'naeír. She's only young, though. No wonder she couldn't wait. A male is the best thing to get her up and flying." She let out a small laugh. Virgil smiled too. He was wondering how to treat this elf.

"You don't have to show all that respect for me, you know." Alanna said suddenly. It was as if she read his mind, which she probably did. "You may be young, thirteen years old when a normal human would live for a century, but I am only around twenty-five out of countless millennia. So, in a way, you're older than me." She spoke with a little less awkwardness than when he used his voice. "Well," Virgil replied, "that's that, but only in _a _way. I'm still younger than you." And he laughed too. She smiled. Then the smile vanished. "Well, what do you think of the choice ahead of us? I was thinking to learn from Arya Dröttning until a certain while, maybe a decade, before coming to the place he was planning to call Thelduin. What about you?"

They talked about the matter for a long time. They never really settled on a choice, so they kept in mind that they should choose soon.

One thing that Virgil noticed was that Alanna was left-handed. She reached for things with her left hand, mastered using it for most chores, and showed other traits to show that she used that hand more often than the other. While Virgil had reached out to Ren with his eight hand, intending to pick him up, he had received his shining palm. She probably did the same with her left hand.

"Well, this has been a nice chat. How about we check on out dragons?" Virgil was tired of the conversation. He had enjoyed it, as they had been speaking for a long while. It would be night soon, so Virgil wanted to see how Ren was going before going to sleep. He realized that, after the conversation, he had begun to act a little brotherly to Alanna. He didn't feel as if he liked her, or if she liked him, so he let himself talk to her like a sibling.

Alanna nodded. They got up, and, with Alanna in the lead, made their way to the Crags of Tel'naeír while the sun drifted lower and lower. They spent their time running, until at last they made it to the two dragons.

The trees parted to show land covered by red clover. They could see a stone cliff that stood a thousand feet high from the looks of it. From there, Virgil could see the forest underneath. He could not see what was at the foot of the cliff, however. He saw the forest below extending far, far away unto the horizon. The place was beautiful, worthy of being a Rider and leaving his family to see. Virgil could imagine why Glaedr had chosen this place to live in.

He called out, _Ren! _and let the mental shout ring out through the crags. Meanwhile, Alanna seemed to do the same. Then Virgil squatted and took out a small pebble. He pushed it to roll until it reached the end of the cliff. He didn't hear it land, though, as the beating of two pairs of wings covered every other noise. Then the two dragons rose from beneath, their scaled hides gleaming.

For the first time, Virgil saw Evarín. She was a light purple, similar to a violet, with only one spike protruding neatly from each one of her cheeks and the ones on her back small and short like Fírnen's. Also, the antennae that grew from above her eyes were unusually long, reaching her shoulders and weighed down until they touched her neck base. Instead of reaching outwards, they grew inwards, following the neck. They were pink-tipped. The scales on her neck were also like Fírnen's, shaped like fur. She didn't have spikes growing from underneath her antennae.

Virgil compared those attributes to that of Ren's. The white dragon had very long spikes, much like those of Saphira. He had two spikes appearing from each cheek, short antennae that grew inwards as well, and fangs reaching downward from the upper lip. Three spikes grew above each of his eyes. His scales were like Saphira's as well.

Evarín reached out with her mind and said, _Alanna! Virgil! _Her voice was similar to her Rider's. Her mind felt brave, bold, and boisterous. She landed next to Ren. She was smaller and had a more stocky figure, but her scales shone a little brighter than Ren's and her tail was slightly longer. While Ren's spikes looked like fur plastered down by water on his tail, Evarín's were still facing upwards. She greeted the two Riders. They talked to each other for a long while until Virgil excused himself. The sun was halfway down the horizon and he had to go to sleep.

He found that Narí had readied a bed for him in a house that was like that of Alanna's. The house's first floor was very high up, however, and the stairs were tall. Virgil was exhausted by the time he made it to the top.

He found a bed inside. Too tired to explore the rest of his temporary house, he dropped onto the bed and slept the night off.

_The sea. It was difficult to describe. The water was warm and welcoming. Virgil could imagine how the world created the sea. Be it water rising from the earth, or endless rain coming down from the skies, or even conditions so cold that all the steam in the world changed into liquid. _

_The waves crashed against the rocks that bordered land from sea. The sky blue color was reflected in the water, creating a majestic scenery of peace and tranquillity. Virgil watched as the clouds formed the shape of an imaginary cathedral. Then he murmured a spell and, without meaning to, created a fairth of the beach. He didn't realize the smooth stone in his hand, but now it was there, gripped by tense fingers. _

_Then Virgil dove underneath the currents of the sea. The ocean blue was deep and rich with color. It was beautiful. Coral dotted the sandy flooring and fish darted when Virgil came nearer. Somehow, he didn't feel the urge to breathe. _

_Then Virgil heard a song that was ringing in his head and echoed throughout his mind. The surrounding water that touched his skin felt as if it were vibrating. It was soon still and the song disappeared. In front of him was a shipwreck. It had seaweed growing all over it. Virgil swam around it, getting a better look at the place before him. The ship had rusty red iron and steel framing around the wooden surface. It had once been smooth, but now crushed and broken. _

_The sails were ripped apart and Virgil could see the dirt that marked the sail. Then his attention was caught by a small chest. It was golden and locked, but Virgil only needed to give it a bit of prying before it opened. _

_He gasped, for inside the chest was a rose. No, not a rose, _the _rose. It was as if it were untouched by the water. It was still looking like it had been freshly picked. In fact, the rose looked vibrant with life. It was strange to Virgil in many ways. The rose was growing even. _

_It reached the size of the rosebush Virgil was familiar with, but this time it withered as it grew. Virgil could almost feel the pain it had to endure. _

_Then, without waking up, Virgil realized who this rose was. Rakrhelgr. _

_The dragon was confined in the place that Eragon found her ― Virgil did not know where exactly ― which caused her confidence to falter and, in this case, turn into ashes. _

_Eragon rescued her and Ren, as well as Evarín and many Eldunarya. He also rescued other eggs. It was a healing for Rakrhelgr, for now she could find her Rider._

_She was broken and bleeding in her soul by hatching. When Virgil saw Arya scry her again even though she didn't let him see her cast the spell, he learned that she was forced into hatching. _

_And that, for a moment, she had been happy to hatch. She had met her true Rider, Röex. She had been joyful to have found her Rider at last. She was happy when, for a short moment, he gained her trust by calling her by a good name, Lovissa, after the loivissa flower._

_But now it broke her heart. She lived forcibly and unhappily. She was fire, wings burning in confidence and fierce love, but now dimmed by the cold ice in Röex's soul. _

_The realization failed to wake Virgil. He quickly resurfaced and dried himself and his clothes with a quick and safe spell. Just then, an orange dot appeared above the horizon. Rakrhelgr. _

_That _managed to wake Virgil up. He did not gasp, however, he did not cough or pant. He was... okay. He gazed at the ceiling. He thought of his dream.

_Strange..._

**Note: Eragon couldn't attack Röex's mind because most of the Eldunarya have not recovered yet, and he would rather find out more of the Rider before he attacks. He needs to know what weaknesses Röex has, not numbly attack without a care. Although, I guess you have a point about it. It's hard to picture Eragon, but I never thought my insight on Ren was that good. Also, you can see how many views you have in the 'manage stories' page. Thanks for the review! **

**M.X.M., thanks. It was really hard to come up with them.**

**Brisingr, I'm not so sure I'll make Eragon come back. Maybe I can make thi by creating such a havoc that armies were reformed, and they sail to Thelduin. And thanks for the support, means so much to me!**

**Thanks to all the reviews people, digital cookies for everyone! (::) **


	13. Chapter 13: Star

Evarín in thought of Ren's-Rider-Virgil. He possessed a certain air of bravery and knowledge. She could see why Ren hatched for him. Evarín remembered when she was still in her egg. She and Ren had spoken of many things, as a Rider's dragon. She flashbacked to what had occurred while her Rider had been in her tree-house with Virgil. She remembered almost every remark Ren gave to her. The way he spoke...

_What did you think of the leather-back-saddles? Were they comfortable to you? _Evarín called them Rider-back-pads, bit she told him that she liked the one she had, crafted by an ancient maker and once belonged to a great dragon and Rider. Hers had a blue gem on it.

_Why did you hatch for Alanna? _Ren had talked to her about why he hatched for Virgil. He spoke of feelings of uncertainty and disinterest, but also about love and support. Evarín remembered how she told him of how Alanna made her feel like. How the elf spoke to her egg with a soft voice, how intense her compassion was, and how she felt towards her dragon.

_I remember your mind when we were still eggs. I could feel it really faintly, but I recognize you. _Evarín burst with joy when he told her this. She could remember what Ren was like too, when he was still concealed along with her.

_What do you like about this forest? _Ren had only been in the Spine before, which was a forest that was nothing compared to Du Weldenvarden, so she told him of all the wonderful things this enchanted place held.

_Wow! This place is amazing! _To any other dragon, Evarín would have answered with no more than an 'of course it is,' but she agreed with him and showed him everything, told him all she ever knew of the forest ever since she hatched.

_You've only been here since you hatched, and yet you know everything about what goes on in here. Look at me, the older dragon, trampling around behind you like a blind bear led by a little cat. _His comparisons often amused Evarín. He had been uttering minor puns and jokes ever since they met.

_What do elves do for a living? _Ren had begun to show interest in the residents of Ellesméra, asking all he could.

Evarín let out a mental sigh. Now Ren had gone to his Rider, saying then Ren's-Rider-Virgil was still in bed, that he was is panic and yet not in trouble, that Ren had to go there.

_I hope he's okay. _Evarín's concern towards the dragon-Rider-two-leg surprised herself. She didn't know why. Was it simply because he and Ren would work with her and Alanna, or was it because she didn't want Rider of _Ren _to get hurt? Was her worry rooted to her feelings for the white dragon?

She shook the thought off. She flew above the vast-forest-Du-Weldenvarden and saw that the star-that-is-the-sun had begun to rise. Misty-flyer-of-water clouds tickled her belly as she flew higher. Soon she was high above the vast-forest-Du-Weldenvarden. She flapped her wings in a steady rhythm and glided along an invisible railing. Then she turned left and maneuvered in a circle before descending until she was parallel to the top most tree branches. From there she skimmed the crown of the forest, then flew higher, performing tricks in the air. She began with a neat loop the loop, then diving into a thick clump of clouds-that-will-not-rain before shooting out at a speed that would have paralyzed a Rider, the howling wind making it almost impossible not to stay flat.

Her violet eyes caught a silvery flow to her right, half concealed by the trees. It was white-fire-Ren, who was making his way carefully through the thick growth. He had been in aware of her, so she gently surprised him with the presence of her mind.

_Evarín? _The purple-scaled dragon recognized this mental voice as Virgil's, as it was different and simpler than the mind of a dragon's. And yet the mind felt distant and hazy, paying little attention to his own words. White-fire-Ren added, _Is Alanna with you? _

_No, she was in her house with Dusan last I saw her. Maybe she's reading or writing or resting or practicing magic. You can never tell. _It was true, as Evarín ha seen her saying to Dusan, "Here, let me help," before she left the two elves.

_Ah. We're currently looking for her, as I just picked Virgil up from his house. _Evarín felt a strange worry emanating from the white dragon. He was concerned for a reason, so she privately asked him. _Why are you worried? Something's clouding your mind. _Ren's-Rider-Virgil did not seem to even notice that they were having a conversation without letting him hear.

_It's Virgil. He's been like this for half an hour, a few minutes after waking up. He keeps looking here and there. He hasn't been doing anything important. I think it's the dreams. _

_Dreams? _By this point Evarín was beginning to land.

_Ever since one of the flights to Ellesméra, he's been having odd dreams. One was about a burning rose, another about me flying frantically, the last being him seeing Rakrhelgr flying towards him. Bah! Rakrhelgr should have been Rakrshelgr too. Bad spelling. _It was true. _Hallowed _was shelgr, not helgr.

_If I were you, I'd have pressed him._

_I tried. I tried, but he wouldn't speak to me. He's been like this for so long, I've been wondering if he hit his head on a falling coconut._

_Coconuts don't grow here. _

_You don't get the point! _Ren's voice was vibrating with anger. _Something's really wrong with him!_

_Maybe Alanna can help. _Then she let Virgil hear her thoughts. _Why don't I lead you to her? _

"Sure," said Virgil, his voice so faint that anyone would have been convinced that something definitely _was_ wrong with the white Rider. Luckily, they were still close to the tree-house that Virgil spent the night in. They backtracked and took the saddle. Virgil did the job in such a distracted air that he put the leather-back-saddle girth on too tight. Ren had to prod him many times before he jolted and loosened the strap.

It took longer than usual for Virgil to finish the task. Once they were done, Evarín led them to Alanna's house-of-trees. She took off, with ren close behind. _You go up front, _she offered.

_Aren't you leading? _

_I'll tell you where to go. I'll watch your Rider from behind. _

Without a word, Ren sped up, and in a moment he was already in front of her. Surprise shot through Evarín. Virgil was rigid and almost unmoving. Without the steady rise and fall of his chest, he would have been dead. His hands were looking as of they were numb. His stiff hair looked as of it were frozen, little of it moving in the wind. His mind was oddly barricaded, and there was little chance that even Ren could contact him.

_Something's wrong. Badly wrong._

Evarín guided Ren with a _No, a little bit more to the left, _while still watching the Rider. His thoughts had been reduced to a small tendril of thought. But, slowly, Evarín noticed him regaining a more detailed and complex mind ― the mind she knew him as. He stirred mentally, and when he turned his head to the right, she saw him blink. With herself in watch, she saw him shake his head and push himself slightly upward.

The process was sluggish. His brown eyes had gained a spark that had been drained before. His stony expression grew less taut, more of a snake's hunting gaze than the lazy look of a dozing lion. His hands were now gripping the saddle with fear of falling now, not the numb touch he held before. Now he seemed more conscious of his situation.

Evarín took the lead now, with permission from Ren. They took the flight slowly on purpose. Evarín didn't want to explain the entire situation to Alanna and why the white Rider was so...why he was at such a lack of expression. She had already circled many times to lengthen the flight. But now, when she veered around to make another circle, Virgil gave her a questioning look when she saw his face. He did not speak, however, which made her feel like hour hadn't fully recovered just yet.

After discussing with Ren, they turned towards Alanna's house and landed. Virgil slid down with a grunt. He still remained silent.

Alanna peeked out, and greeted Virgil. He replied without enthusiasm. They still spoke in the human language. But Alanna turned to her dragon now and switched to her native speech. _Er älfr unin zar'roc? _Is he in misery? And she held a point. Virgil looked tired, exhausted as if he had cried overnight. Adopting the elven tongue, Evarín answered with, _No, no... ask Ren. _

With that, Ren poured all his memory of the dream into Alanna. It took less than a minute to be done. Afterwards, Alanna shrugged. Meanwhile, Virgil only brushed away some dust from Ren's flank. That deepened Evarín's confusion. But, before any of them could react, Virgil spoke.

"We must not let Röex create battle."

All three of them started with surprise.

_Battle, Virgil? _Ren queried. His mental voice was neutral, but it was obvious that he was both uncertain and overjoyed that his Rider had gone over his terror by a mere dream.

"Yes."

_But what _kind _of battle? What is one Rider and an enslaved dragon compared with six Riders, two elves, two human, one dwarf and one Urgal, and all the elves of Du Weldenvarden? And I didn't even mention the Riders' dragons. _Evarín felt like there was little possibility that a battle would occur like that.

"Yes, Virgil, what do you have in mind? Battle will not happen, not now, not like this. And even if there is a battle, we would stop it before Röex becomes another Galbatorix." Alanna sounded as if she were talking to a different Virgil, not the one she knew.

"We won't stop the battle like that... We've ― " Virgil stopped. Evarín looked on questioningly, but Virgil did not continue. He was gazing at something behind all if them.

Elf-queen-Arya was running towards them, so fast that she arrived sooner than a human could accomplish. "Eragon wishes to talk to the newest pair of Riders." With that, she gracefully drew a mirror with her left hand. Evarín remembered how she and Alanna had spoken to Eragon before. Now she let Alanna speak for both Evarín and herself. "Atra esterní ono thelduin." Virgil did the same, to Evarín's relief. Eragon said to all three Riders,

"We of Thelduin have pinpointed Röex's location. He is currently between here and Alagaësia. Unfortunately, I cannot attack him yet because our... _friends _have disagreed. Many are still unable to help us, and I would not risk to attack from such a great distance. Therefore, I have decided to go there and meet him, possibly persuade him to go with us willingly. If that does not work, we will attack. I will bring a small army that will include Shûrn, Ulreq, Láukan, Threkkan, Blödhgarm, Yaela, and I would like you, Arya Dröttning, to come as well, to intimidate Röex."

"That is not possible. I cannot let my elves here without their leader," Arya said.

"Very well... if so, I would like your two Riders to come from Alagaësia. we need all the help we can get. For some reason, Rakrhelgr is larger than ever now, about the equivalent of a year-old dragon. She has been this way about a week ago."

"...Very well, but when will you launch this attack?"

"In a month or two. That should give you time to train the Riders until they are ready. It also seems that Röex is not planning to go much further just yet. I will alert you whenever he has moved. It would still take him very long to reach either Alagaësia or Thelduin just yet."

Evarín felt uncomfortable. Did she nor her Rider have any say in this? But to leave Alagaësia in such a battle... she would do it for the Riders.

"Then I suppose you will come, Virgil, Îstalrren, Alanna, Evarín?"

Virgil said to Arya, "I will come... and so will Ren. Also, I would like to warn you that it appears that Röex is stronger than we would expect."

"How do you know?"

"I have had dreams of his fury and power."

"Dreams? Very well, I take your urgency and will train you as quickly as possible."

Then Virgil turned to Alanna. "You'll come with us... won't you?" Now he sounded like himself. "The winds are blowing, and with them the winds of fate..."

Alanna smiled affectionately. Above, Fírnen's wings beat steadily. "You're better, aren't you? You and your words. Of course we'll come."

**Note: Don't worry about Virgil, he's okay now... Röex is really drawing energy from his surroundings, so that his dragon is huge now. Also, to make Röex a big problem on the story, what should I do? I really need fan help here, so can you tell me please, what should I do? Should I...**

**a) give him Eldunarya? And somehow find a way to tell you how he obtained it?**

**b) found a dragon egg and found a Rider, making the Rider his ally?**

**c) stole a Rider sword and use it against the Riders?**

**d) make Röex learn how to absorb power from light/fire/water/darkness?**

**e) make him a sorcerer and use spirits to help him?**

**f) create a Shade and make it help Röex? **

**Cookies to all who help and review!**


	14. Chapter 14: Sverdar

Virgil coughed.

They were flying over Ellesméra again, and Virgil's stomach ached. He had been flying on Ren's back ever since he woke up. The sight of Rakrhelgr after his dream had only affected him a few minutes after he woke. By then he had been pondering what the dreams meant and why he kept having them. He kept thinking about the dream, and after each thought the feeling worsened, like how when a deer breathed, the python choking it gripped tighter. When he saw Rakrhelgr, she had been about one and a half of Ren's size. Ren was six months old, Rakrhelgr probably a couple weeks or months younger. He hadn't returned to the present until Ren had landed.

But now they were flying again, and Ren accidentally blew smoke in front of them, burning Virgil's lungs. _Oops, sorry, _Ren apologized. _It's okay, just be more careful. _

All three dragons, including Fírnen, were heading for the Crags of Tel'naeír to begun their training. Arya had given them the permission to call her as their mistress now, and Fírnen their master. The two ebrithilar were already beginning to teach them with words already. Because Virgil wasn't as good as Alanna in speaking the ancient language, Arya began to teach him more intensively. _Lucky I've studied the basics of the ancient language once before, _Virgil had reflected. Now Arya was talking to him with her mind, as they were flying fast and low to reach the crags quickly.

_What is the literal translation of the elven word 'Skulblaka'?_

_Scale-flapper._

_Good. What is the difference between 'reisa' and 'rïsa?'_

_'Reisa' means 'raise,' while 'rïsa' means 'to rise'_

_Correct. _

Virgil got most of her questions right, but he did get some wrong. At the same time, Fírnen was teaching the two dragons the best techniques for flying efficiently and how to spot weather provocations.

Once they landed, Virgil followed Arya to a small hut near the crags.

**Guys, I won't be able to post as much as I used to, or at least until next month, there will be no more updates. School again, as well as a few other things in life. I'm also gonna make a better fan fiction, but not in the Inheritance Cycle. **


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